When Lines Divide Us
by FalconDot
Summary: A hero has fallen, unbeknownst to the Wizarding world. But in a world where darkness reigns, and souls are split, the prophecy she left is the only possible hope. And why hope? Because when people turn against each other so easily, hope may be the only thing left to hold onto - besides each other. Sequel to We Stand Together. Set during HBP, before HoO. Updates every week.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, I lied and said I'd be posting this in winter, but it turns out I'm just not the type of person who plans out a story before writing it. I like to improvise. Oh, and also, I was way too excited about getting this sequel going to stall that long. But to get to the point... I'M BACK! YAYYYY!**

 **And here is the sequel! I'm not really sure if there will be a sequel to this sequel or if this one will be the end of it, so let's see how it goes...**

 **It's kind of recommended that you read the first story, We Stand Together, lest you get extremely confused… but whatever. You do you.**

 **As for updates: during the summer, I should be getting up at least two chapters a week. After that I will try to update every weekend. As always, though, I can't make promises because life will get in the way.**

 **The first part of this chapter contains the preview that I put in as the last chapter of We Stand Together just to refresh your memory. The Heroes of Olympus series doesn't exist in this fic. Enjoy and, as always, reviews are to this story what hydrogen is to the Sun!**

 **POVs: Draco, Harry**

 _Disclaimer: Oh, don't mind me over here. I'm just sitting and wondering what kind of author writes fanfiction for their own books._

* * *

Chapter 1

Draco!" I winced as my father yelled my name up the stairs. Studying for N.E.W.T.-level courses was hard enough as it was without him screaming for me to come down the stairs.

The first week of the summer holiday was not going well. After I had talked to Potter about Rachel and the Dark side of my family, I had already solidified the decision that I would never become a Death Eater. Not in a million years. I suspected my father had an inkling of it, especially after the events at the Ministry last May. I'd willingly fought with the other Death Eaters, making sure to hide my face in my cloak, but father had known it was me.

Which was why I'd had to perform a minor Memory Charm on him to prevent him from turning me over immediately. You-Know-Who, I hoped, had not recognized me upon the quetzalcoatl's back when we fled the Ministry.

I knew that should my father ever find out my decision, he would have to disown me to please his master. Father loved me, and I loved him, but to escape death and torture from the Dark Lord, he would do anything. I'd been raised with the notion that muggleborns were bad blood, literally. But I'd never been raised to believe they were so bad that they all had to be _exterminated_.

My father, I had been able to tell since I was really young, was utterly relieved by the Dark Lord's fall. Now, though, since _he_ had returned, my father had been jumpy, constantly eyeing everyone suspiciously, scaring when a mouse stirred, and yelling at me all the time.

"DRACO!" he yelled once more, but this time I could hear the terror in his voice. Wondering why he sounded so worried, I groaned, put my head against the dark wood desk in my green room, and stood up to go downstairs.

The first thing I noticed was that it was cold. And very dim.

It was light and sunny and warm outside, and contrary to popular belief, our house was well-heated and full of light too. But right now, it was dark. I descended the freezing marble steps, very suddenly aware of how bare my feet were, looking out the big window next to the stairs as I did so. It was thundering and raining heavily outside.

In the parlor stood our old house elf, Tracy, shivering in terror. My father stood next to her, trying to look stoic but obviously hiding his own terror. It didn't take long to figure out why.

At the head of the polished black mahogany dining table was a man, cloaked in black, running long fingers tipped with filthy, sharp fingernails over a wand. His face was hidden by the cloak until he pulled it back, revealing a chalk-white face, red eyes with slitted pupils, and snake-like nostrils.

"Hello, _Draco,"_ he said in a voice as cold as the room itself, twirling his wand. My feet were numb from the marble underneath them.

Father turned to look at me. "Draco, have a seat. We have a few things to discuss."

I froze. _I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it_ , my mind chanted by itself. They were going to ask me to join the Death Eaters.

But years of being raised as a Malfoy were well-spent on me. Acting perfectly, I reached for the closest chair, pulled it out, and sat down.

"Draco, as you are well-aware—"

"No need for that, Lucius," the man at the end of the table snapped. "There is no need to go around in circles. If you won't get to the point, then I will."

I felt a tugging on the edge of my mind, and instantly snapped down my Occlumency barriers to prevent the Dark Lord from entering my mind. It was with good reason that Snape had started to teach me secretly when I was only ten.

He sneered at me, realizing immediately what I'd done. Of course, the Dark Lord was an incredible Legilimens, and he recognized it when someone was trying to hide something.

Fortunately for me, I was well-educated in the art of Occlumency. I used my mind to put up the illusion that I had lowered my barriers once again and pushed thoughts of joining the Dark Side, getting the Dark Mark, and a little bit of fear into the front of my mind for the wizard to read.

Apparently, he was fooled. He smiled cruelly. "I don't think there's anything to worry, about, Lucius, as your son seems… quite inspired already." My father breathed an obvious sign of relief. "We can arrange the date to give him the Mark to be soon, if you quite consent?"

It wasn't really a question so much as a threat.

"I was wondering if…" Voldemort turned his red eyes on me, but I kept up the barriers and false smile, "we could do it right now?"

My fake smile fell. _NO._

And suddenly I knew that Voldemort had never been fooled by my Occlumency. Snapping up my barriers in the beginning had been a very severe mistake. He'd seen me at the Ministry and known it was me, fighting against his own Death Eaters.

My father was looking back and forth, terrified. "Draco…?"

I looked back at him and hissed lowly but didn't speak.

Voldemort laughed, high and cold and unforgiving. "But you don't really have a chance, now, do you, young Malfoy? Such a precious prize you are. You've got excellent skills in potions and transfiguration, your father tells me... and I can see for myself what an exceptionally skilled Occlumens you are. Snape, was it?"

I snarled back at him, but still didn't move.

He sighed dramatically. "I am afraid, my young Draco, that if you do not wish to comply with the Dark Lord's wishes, you must be punished." I drew my wand inconspicuously, hiding it in the hem of my robes. But of course he knew I'd pulled it out.

The red eyes flamed with anger and before I knew it, pain enveloped me whole. There was a far off screaming that I realized after a few minutes was my own. I knew what pain was. It was evil, and it was torturous, and I'd experienced it many, many times before, but none in this way. This wasn't just pain; it was agony.

Suddenly, the white-hot fire encasing my body vanished without a trace. I looked up to see the Dark wizard standing a few feet away. His snake, the snake that basically killed Rachel, was slithering towards me very slowly, a dark shadow with glowing red eyes like its master's.

I didn't think I'd ever been more terrified.

I stumbled away from the snake and him and stood up shakily. "Impressive," he said, cocking his head just the slightest bit as to seem curious. "But we are far from being done, Draco."

This time, he did not cast a Cruciatus Curse at me. Instead, he walked over, put a freezing charm on my body, and flicked his wand several times. I did not realize what had happened until my feet began to burn from pain. The bone of my heel was sticking out through them. The man in front of me had just used magic to rip the soles of my feet off of my body.

He sliced his wand through the air once more. The skin over my chest was slashed open and began to bleed heavily.

Another wand movement, still no words. Both of my arms broke with a hideous _crack_.

I couldn't look away, but I began praying. To someone, to anyone. I was sorry for everything I'd ever done. For any pain I'd ever inflicted upon another person. For any bullying I'd oppressed others with.

My left leg broke. Voldemort sent an Imperius Curse my way and I stood up and walked over to him on that broken leg. I felt like I was going to die. I hoped I would.

He grabbed my arm and pulled it towards his wand, and I already knew what was going to happen.

I gathered what little resolve I had and broke the curses on me. " _NEVER!"_ I screamed before the wand could touch my forearm.

Voldemort looked at me for a split second, bewildered.

I took advantage of the small time I had and ran. Ran out of that filthy house, where I never wanted to be again, and _accio_ 'd my broom… the rain outside poured onto my face, drenching me in mere moments as lightning flashed. My arms hurt like hell, my leg was not supposed to be stood on, but I kept running.

It was too late. Voldemort was already there, pointing a deadly wand at me. If I was going to disappear, it couldn't be with my broom.

Frantically, I twisted on the spot like I'd seen my mother and father do on multiple occasions, focusing as hard as I could to think of a place other than here, anywhere, _anywhere…_

When a force squeezed my throat, I thought that Voldemort had gotten a hand around me. But soon I realized I was flying through compressing darkness, and I thought hard on the first place that popped into my head…

I landed scrambling, stumbling and fell on my face. It was only then I realized the blood pouring out of my body and the pain that came with it, and I screamed as hard as I could into the rain still coming down.

A yell was the last thing I heard. Concerned amber eyes were the last thing I saw.

And then I fell into darkness.

* * *

 _FIVE HOURS EARLIER_

"Sirius!" I exclaimed delightedly, crushing my godfather in a hug as soon as he walked through the door. It wasn't exactly as if I hadn't seen him in a long time — as a matter of fact, I'd seen him yesterday — but today was his trial, and I was both so excited and anguished that I nearly cut off his circulation in my hug.

So far, the first week of the summer holiday at the Burrow had been all right. Despite the fact that Mrs. Weasley had enforced her rule of ' _at least one hour of homework every day',_ the rest of the daylight hours were spent playing quidditch outside in teams of three versus two (Fred and me on one side, George, Ginny, and Ron on the other) or simply enjoying the sunlight.

Of course, for the past week I'd been looking through old books concerning the Wizengamot and how trials worked for wizards and witches. It wasn't all that difficult, and I knew a lot of it already from having my own hearing last summer, but I still read through everything Mrs. Weasley had to offer just in case so that I could see how the trial worked when I was there. Then there had been the chapters that delved deeper into Wizengamot politics with honored family houses. I'd skimmed over the paragraphs in that section, but after finding nothing useful, had shut the book. Hermione would probably be interested in it.

Now, Sirius had just arrived through the Floo. Mrs. Weasley, gave him a smile as he stepped out of the emerald flames.

"Hey, Harry! Slow down, you're going to knock me down!" I instantly caught myself and measured how much force I was putting into the hug. Sirius, I had noted recently, had seemingly never recovered from his time in Azkaban. I winced at the thought. My godfather was too skinny for a man his age. I drew back to inspect him.

"How are you, Sirius?"

"Quite jittery with nerves, as a matter of fact."

"Don't be. Everything you'll say is the truth." I knew that at most trials, the accused were made to swallow some Veritaserum to make sure that everything they said was the absolute truth.

Sirius smiled at me, a genuine and bright smile. "I know. I'm just… nervous. I'm sure you understand the feeling. You had your own hearing last July."

I _did_ know the feeling, and I also knew that nothing could really make it go away. So instead, I smiled, wrapped my arm around Sirius again, and led him into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was already bustling, trying to clean the messy kitchen. Every time I saw how burdened she was with my extra presence in the house, I asked if I could do anything for her. She wouldn't let me lift a finger, though. Her excuse was that I "had better things to do than clean a rickety old house".

"Molly?" Sirius asked, drawing her attention. "Harry and I are going to get going. We were supposed to be there five minutes ago."

Mrs. Weasley looked at him with an odd expression. "I didn't know they let the accused bring guests with them to the Wizengamot."

"Usually they don't," said Sirius with an eternal patience, "but I've spoken with Dumbledore, who has been reinstated as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I didn't want anyone else bringing Harry. It's going to be a fairly small trial, though there will be some guests watching."

I knew about this too from reading the Ministry politics book. Trials, unless very important, were held in a judge's office. Larger ones had some guests invited and faced most of the Wizengamot.

"Have you got any witnesses, Sirius?"

"Remus will be there, as will Minnie, though she wasn't actually a witness. And — well, you're not supposed to know this at all, so don't tell anyone," he said, voice dropping to a whisper, "but they've somehow managed to get their hands on Peter."

Mrs. Weasley looked slightly horrified. "Peter _Pettigrew?_ "

Sirius looked like he'd just swallowed a particularly nasty shoe. "Indeed. The filthy rat." There was a moment of silence as we all remembered Pettigrew, before Sirius suddenly clapped his hands and announced, "We'll be leaving now."

Ron, Ginny, and the twins all wished us good luck when we walked back into the Floo. None of them could come, not having been invited as guests by the Wizengamot or by Sirius. Mrs. Weasley, smiling brightly, promised that everything would go well.

"Come on, Harry." So I stepped into the fire next to Sirius. He whispered a location that I couldn't quite hear before dropping the Floo Powder, and then we were swished away by emerald flames.

* * *

I wasn't exactly sure _where_ we ended up. It was a small living room, claustrophobic with its tight walls and low ceiling, not to mention the clutter. It wasn't messy or unorganized; the room just had so much stuff in it that it seemed that way.

"Finally got here, then, Sirius?" a gruff voice sounded from our left and we both looked over, Sirius calmly and I shocked, to see a large man standing there, holding a walking staff and standing on a prosthetic leg, his left eye whizzing magically in its socket.

"Hello, Mad-Eye," said Sirius.

"And you've brought Harry, I see. Well, let's get going. We don't want to be late."

As Moody wrestled with the door, I whispered to Sirius, "What are we doing here? I thought we were going straight to the Ministry?"

Sirius looked at me with gray eyes. "Although Dumbledore has granted me some extra freedoms that most of the accused don't have, I can't just walk into my own trial by myself. I need to be escorted there by an Auror, and Moody was assigned to take me there."

I looked around to where Moody was, holding the door open, in bewilderment. The Ministry books certainly hadn't mentioned this.

Mad-Eye stopped us right before we hit the door. "Your wand, Sirius?"

Unexpectedly, Sirius calmly drew his wand from his pocket and handed it over to Moody, who stuffed it in his own coat. "Let's go." He magically bound Sirius' wrists, making sure that they were not harmed in doing so, and looked apologetically at Sirius. My godfather had retained his calm until the bindings had been put on. To anyone else, Sirius' expression wouldn't have appeared to change. I, however, was keenly aware of the panicked look that appeared in his eyes as soon as the invisible manacles appeared. It didn't come as too much of a surprise; twelve years in Azkaban, full of torture and manacles, would do that to a person. Nevertheless, I grabbed his arm to comfort him. He looked at me gratefully, but there was also a hint of pleading in his eyes.

"Come on," was all I said. "The sooner we go, the sooner we can get it over with."

* * *

The Wizengamot court was the same as it had been the last time I'd been in here, facing my own trial last summer. The only difference was that instead of Fudge at the top of the chief's seat, Dumbledore was sitting there, and that there were a couple people sitting in the rows of chairs behind and next to me. Sirius' guests, I assumed.

There was Lupin, who sat next to me, and Tonks next to him; Professor McGonagall sat on the other side of the aisle separating seats. Then, behind us was Moody, and in the very back I could see a head full of blond curls, bent over a piece of paper. Any other time, I would have been angry to see that Rita Skeeter was the one documenting this trial. However, my letters to and from Hermione had suggested that Rita would be telling the truth about the trial.

The trial itself was surprisingly short, only half an hour or so. I watched as they sat Sirius on the chair in front of the Wizengamot, and as a short witch I realized to be Amelia Bones poured a waterlike liquid that was anything but water down Sirius' throat.

"This is the trial of Sirius Black, accused of giving information to the Dark Lord as to the whereabouts of the Potter family and the murder of thirteen muggles as well as Peter Pettigrew fourteen years ago on the morning of November the first, 1981," Bones began. "Recently the court found out that Black was never issued a trial and faced twelve years in Azkaban without a conviction until he broke out. At the time, we gave all people trials, no matter how much evidence had been presented that they were in allegiance with the Dark Lord. It is a matter of injustice and humiliation that we failed to present Sirius Black with the same opportunity to prove himself innocent. Today, however, we will find out the truth."

There was a slight pause, and all that could be heard was the scratching of quill on parchment in the back row.

"Please bring in Peter Pettigrew!" Bones announced loudly. No one was surprised that he'd been caught. Another Auror, one I didn't know, appeared at the doorway and walked in, dragging a whimpering, pitiful figure behind him. It was Pettigrew, who was chewing on his overlong nails, whimpering to the Auror to have some mercy, but the man wasn't listening.

"Two weeks ago, on June thirteenth, Peter Pettigrew was found in a muggle house that had been ransacked, wandless and on the floor. There was no evidence of how he ended up there, but after a small dose of Veritaserum we indeed found out that this is the real Pettigrew." She walked over to him, magically binding him to a chair with the same spell Moody had used, and poured the potion into his throat.

"Sirius Black. Did you give information to You-Know-Who about where James and Lily Potter were hiding?"

Sirius' voice, like his eyes, was glazed over. "No."

"But were you not the Secret-Keeper for the Potters?"

"I was before."

"So did you give the secret to someone who might've given it away to the Dark Lord?"

"No."

Amelia Bones's eyes narrowed. "How did the Dark Lord find the Potters on the night of October 31st, 1981 if not by telling them the secret of where the house was?"

"I was originally intended to be the Secret-Keeper. However, James and Lily both thought that it was too obvious and that I would be attacked by Death Eaters to find where the Potters were."

"Why would it be too obvious?"

Sirius was still monotone. "I was James's best friend all throughout Hogwarts. I would never, ever betray him or my other friends, Peter Pettigrew or Remus Lupin. Just the thought makes me sick."

"So what happened?"

"Both James and Lily decided that they should have someone no one would suspect as the Secret-Keeper, so they could be safe. So they made Peter Pettigrew the Secret-Keeper instead. No one knew then that he was in allegiance with the Dark Lord. But the night James and Lily were murdered, I knew that he'd told Voldemort. I went after him for revenge. But before I could do anything, Peter blew up the street, killing those muggles, and cut off his finger to frame me as the murderer."

Amelia Bones, along with the rest of the Wizengamot, looked startled.

"How did Pettigrew escape, then?"

Sirius' answer was short and confusing. "Through the sewers."

"How would he have done so, Mr. Black?"

"Peter Pettigrew was an Animagus. A rat, to be exact. So he transformed himself after cutting off his finger and fled before the explosion cleared."

Bones now turned to Pettigrew, who sat in his chair, struggling against the bindings and looking around with terrified eyes.

"Do you confess that you betrayed the Potters by giving away the secret location of their hiding to the Dark Lord, and then attempted to frame Sirius Black by blowing up a street of muggles and faking your own death?"

Pettigrew's watery eyes focused on her. "Yes."

"Are you an unregistered Animagus?"

"Yes."

"What is your Animagus form?"

"A rat."

"Did you escape into the sewers as a rat after the explosion on the street?"

"Yes."

Everyone in the room who hadn't known the entire story until then looked shocked. It was then that Dumbledore rose and spoke. "It is truly a tragedy that Mr. Sirius Black, heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, was thrown into Azkaban and forced to spend twelve undeserved years there. However, as we have now truly caught the criminal, there is not a need for any other witnesses. I wish to hold a vote among the council. Those who believe that Mr. Black is innocent and should be relieved of all charges, and that Mr. Pettigrew is the true accused here and should be sent to Azkaban for consorting with the Dark Lord and being an unregistered Animagus, please raise your hands."

It was unanimous. Every single person on the Wizengamot raised their hands. Sirius was free.

"You can untie Mr. Black and give both him and Mr. Pettigrew the antidote, Ms. Bones," said Dumbledore as he sat down again.

"Wait. If you aren't opposed to it, I have a last question for Mr. Black."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"Mr. Black, how exactly did you escape Azkaban?"

From my seat, I could see that Sirius' eyes had begun to clear, the Veritaserum no longer forcing him to tell the truth. His eyebrows furrowed. I held my breath, hoping that he wouldn't tell how he got out of Azkaban. It would only send him straight back again.

But fortunately, all Sirius said was "I don't remember. I was so malnourished and tormented from my years in Azkaban that it was all a blur. I simply remember that one moment, there was a Dementor in front of me, and the next, I was on solid land."

Bones looked a bit wary, but she untied Sirius and gave the antidote.

"To conclude this trial, I clear Sirius Black of all previous convictions and declare he is free from his sentence in Azkaban. I also convict Peter Pettigrew of the previously mentioned crimes. He will serve two lives' sentences in Azkaban."

And just like that, the trial was over.

I rushed over to Sirius as soon as I could. "You're free!"

He hugged me tightly. "I am, pup. And I intend to live the rest of my life, no matter how short, that way. Which means that you and I are going to have to take a small trip back here soon."

* * *

 **A/N: I am aware that that's not how courts work, but for the sake of this fic I changed it. :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Another chapter because it's Harry's birthday today! I'm so excited to read the 8th Harry Potter book so this chapter's rather short. I haven't forgotten about the demigods, they will return soon. Reviews are taken in with love!**

 **POVs: Harry**

 _Disclaimer: I don't own the marvelous works of JK Rowling or Uncle Rick._

* * *

Chapter 2

That night, Mrs. Weasley cooked up a feast to celebrate Sirius' freedom. Remus came along to help and stayed for the dinner, of course. Hermione showed up around four in the afternoon, congratulating Sirius on his newfound freedom and greeting us.

"Is Sirius going to sign up officially as an Animagus?" Hermione asked me later, while she, Ron and I sat in the bedroom Ron and I were sharing, picking through our school books and lounging on the beds. I didn't look away from Hedwig, to whom I was feeding owl pellets through her cage bars.

"He thought he should and I agree. I don't want him going back to Azkaban, even if it is for doing something illegal this time. Not when he just got his freedom back," I told her.

"And you?" Hermione asked suspiciously, her tone slightly bossy.

"I don't think so." Hermione started to protest, so I quickly cut her off. "No, listen, Hermione. Just imagine what could happen if Voldemort took over the Ministry! If I registered, he'd have access to that and might use it against me."

Hermione closed her mouth, momentarily stunned into silence. After a couple of silent moments, she quietly opined, "I still think you should. I don't want _you_ going to Azkaban now."

"Hermione," reasoned Ron, "I don't think they'll lock him up."

"Just because he's the Chosen One doesn't mean that he can evade prison and federal law!" protested Hermione.

"But even if they did catch him, he could pretend that it was accidental magic right there and then," Ron said.

Hermione made a face of disappointment but didn't argue further. A few minutes later, after three more owl pellets had fallen to the bottom of Hedwig's cage — she was not interested anymore, her appetite apparently taken care of and her head under her wing — Hermione spoke up again. "Do you think Sirius is going to adopt you now that he's free?"

The question startled me. I hadn't even thought about that being a possibility, to be completely honest. But now, the option crept slowly into my mind and took over. "I-I don't know," I said, in a hushed tone. I must have sounded surprised enough that Hermione looked back at her book and spoke no more.

As the three of us sat in silence, that terrible, wonderful idea of adoption conquered all my thoughts and took over. It was suddenly all I could think of. The more I thought about it, though, the less strange and more appealing the idea became. I wouldn't ever have to see the Dursleys again and I might have a real home to go back to in the summer. Sirius, after all, was the only family I had left, and I was hoping I'd have him around for a while longer.

But then came the idea that Sirius might not like it. He might not want to adopt me. That was a scenario that I didn't want to have to deal with. It might be better to not ask at all, rather than have that single beautiful dream living in my mind. For now, we were in the middle of a war. For now, there was Voldemort to deal with. There was a prophecy — Rachel's never-ending prophecy, the only thing she'd left in this world when she'd gone — to deal with. The demigods were coming back to Britain soon, and we'd begin our sixth year at Hogwarts. How it happened I wasn't sure. It seemed not that long ago that I'd been fighting Voldemort's ghost and taking the Philosopher's stone from him. I suddenly realized how much had happened in the past five years.

So for now, I wouldn't bother Sirius with something he didn't need to worry about.

* * *

It seemed like an eternity of long hours passed before Mrs. Weasley finally called us downstairs for dinner. She and Ginny, with the help of Lupin and Sirius, had spent hours preparing the special dinner just for Sirius. It was better than any Hogwarts meal had ever been; soup and pot roast, sliced and steamed and baked vegetables, bread, and at the very end of the meal, Mrs. Weasley brought out a cake she'd whipped up in celebration. Chocolate, with hints of vanilla, simple yet delicious.

Sirius was speechless and told her she shouldn't have. Humble to the last, of course. Mr. Weasley showed up later, just when the sky began to get cloudy and dark. Fred and George, who had started renting an apartment near Diagon Alley so they could manage the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes store that they had recently started, came down too. Their business had been booming ever since it had started after they graduated from Hogwarts.

It was peaceful out, with soft rain pattering against the windows and roof while we ate inside. Everyone gave Mrs. Weasley compliments on her cooking and thanked Lupin and Ginny for helping out. After the meal had ended, Mrs. Weasley cleared the plates and we all sat there making small talk.

That was, until the rain began to fall down harder and in sheets of silver and the evening took an unexpected turn.

It was almost sunset when the rain came down all together suddenly, like buckets of water were being poured from the sky. With all the noise from the rain hitting the roof and sides of the Burrow, I stood up and walked over to the doorway. Had I not, I would not have seen the dark figure fall out of nowhere onto the ground. I wouldn't have seen the blood pouring from the person's body and the terrible way the body was twisted. I would not have heard the scream of agony that came from that person.

I called for Mrs. Weasley and for Sirius, first slightly alarmed and then with increasing urgency, before rushing out into the rain. Nevertheless, it was Mrs. Weasley who reached the body first and shouted with alarm.

"Sirius! Can you levitate him back? He needs urgent medical attention!"

Sirius had his wand out before he reached the body and was levitating him back to the house, a grave look on his face. He wasn't gagging or even turning his eyes away from the torn-up body, the way I did. I almost didn't recognize the person. There was so much blood that his hair was almost black with it, and his legs and arms were all broken and twisted. His feet were almost completely missing.

But I saw his face, maybe the only thing that wasn't torn up, and recognized him. And I followed closely behind Sirius as he ran through the drenching rain and back towards the Burrow, wand raised; and as I followed him, I didn't look down again at the mangled frame of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

 **A/N: ...so now you know where he ended up?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This story is kicking off slowly, but it'll get faster soon. Don't forget to leave a review! (Also, who cried when reading _The Cursed Child?_ No? Just me? Ok then.)**

 **POV: Percy**

 _Disclaimer: Like always…_

* * *

Chapter 3

"Annabeth, are you ready?"

She was in tears again, crying silently as she looked down at her hands, folded together over her lap. All her brothers and sisters were already down at the center of camp. I walked into the deserted cabin, barely lit by the sky's last light and sat down next to her on her bed.

I wrapped my arms around her, not knowing what else to do. Losing Rachel had impacted the both of us, but Annabeth more so. They'd become such good friends in the past year and a half.

When we'd first come back to camp, it had been a relief to be back with our own kind. It wasn't easy, being surrounded by wizards and witches for an entire school year without getting to be with any demigods. Looking back on it, so much had happened in our first year at Hogwarts.

"Annabeth," I said into her hair, looking down at her gently. "We've got to go. They can't and won't start without us."

She nodded, bringing up a hand to wipe the tears off her face, and then said, "Gods, I'm such a mess."

"No, you're not," I reassured her, gripping her shoulders and gently shaking her. "Everyone here understands. Even me, and that's a stretch."

My tactic worked, and she let out a weak laugh. "C'mon. Let's get this done with."

Even though we'd already burned a shrine for Rachel at Hogwarts, we decided to do a second one, properly this time, and do it at Camp. Apollo had showed up and was standing in some truly outstanding gold tux by the campfire. Despite his outfit, though, he seemed somber.

The burial shroud was the same one we'd burned at Hogwarts — designed by Annabeth, but it was a little bit different since each of the cabins had contributed in some way. It glowed purple, the glowing cast about it by the Hecate cabin, and little fog curls all the way around it. Demeter's cabin had grown little flowers on it, the Hephaestus kids had built a small metal frame around which the shroud was placed, and more.

Tyson was currently in Poseidon's forges, so I had made the Poseidon cabin donation myself; a small bronze chain on which was a trident. It wasn't much, but it was something I made myself and it took a while. I figured that Rachel deserved it.

The first shroud we burned in Rachel's memory had been witnessed by only eight people. This time, the entire camp, Chiron, the satyrs, and two gods watched as it was lifted into the sky as smoke.

Apollo was the saddest I'd ever seen him. "She had so much potential and so much to live for," he told me. "It's a shame. A great shame. Maybe I'll write a poem later, I don't really feel like it now." He disappeared soon after that.

Chiron, Annabeth and I had discussed the matter of revealing how Rachel died thoroughly. It wouldn't exactly be wise to share the wizarding world with the entire camp, but we didn't want to avoid the truth either. Annabeth and I had been doing enough avoiding as it was already; when we first got back to Camp Half-Blood, everyone had been wondering where we'd gone. All they'd known was that we'd been sent on a quest, and usually, sending demigods on a quest is a public thing known all around camp, but the demigods had only been informed by Chiron after we left, and they knew almost nothing about it.

Also, we had been gone for almost a year.

So we had skirted around questions the whole first week we had been here. Finally, Chiron had sat the two of us down and given us some advice on what to do.

"I do not advise you reveal the wizarding world to any more demigods than necessary. It might become a whirlpool of confusion and end badly," he had told us.

"So what do we tell them?" Annabeth asked.

"For now, they know you were on a quest. I believe that at some point in time, they must be told exactly what you were doing then, but not now. Just say you were given a prophecy —" Annabeth winced "— that concerned only you two and therefore people couldn't be chosen for the quest. You must be brief with everyone, otherwise they will keep asking questions."

It hadn't been easy. We had told most of the camp that we were leaving again this year and wouldn't come back until the end of June again, most likely. "Jeez, how long is this quest going to take?" Connor and Travis asked us when we told them that.

"Well, the prophecy wasn't exactly normal-lengthed either," I said.

"How long was it?" Travis asked.

" _What_ was it?" Connor said.

"Nice try, guys."

* * *

The next day was a break day for the two of us. Annabeth stayed in her cabin and secretly read through all the books on Animagi that McGonagall had given her. According to her, she'd been starting to get the dreams referred to in the books. In her dreams, Annabeth had told me that she was in her animal form but couldn't really know what it was yet. For now, it was just flashes. Those books, as well as camp duties, managed to keep her mind off Rachel most of the time, fortunately.

Me? I slept in until eleven o'clock. It was amazing.

Around midday, I found Annabeth down by the beach, sitting on the sand barefooted and reading her heavy book. "Any more dreams last night?"

She jumped slightly, but didn't even have to put down her book to know it was me. "Hey there, Seaweed Brain. Yeah, I'm positive it's some sort of bird. Probably a bird of prey. I'll get a short flash where I'm diving at a mouse from like three hundred feet in the air."

"Sounds like a bat to me," I commented, sitting down on the sand next to her. It was warm and sunny, and I relished the warm sun seeping into my skin. I'd become so pale after spending a whole year in Scotland — I needed my famous tan back.

Annabeth slapped me lightly. "It's not a bat. What kind of bat has feathers?"

"You didn't mention feathers!"

"Have you already forgotten the feathers that came out of my shoulders in April?"

No, I hadn't. I remembered every detail perfectly, in fact. It seemed to be a side effect of inheriting Dumbledore's perfect memory. "Still. You turning into a bat, we could freak some people out on Halloween."

She slapped my arm again.

We sat/laid there for a while, just enjoying the sun — I closed my eyes and listened to the sea. Until — guess what? — a fountain came out of gods-know-where, and splashed all over my face. Annabeth was up immediately.

"Hermione?"

I got up and realized that an Iris-message had jumped up right on my face. An Iris-message showing a very concerned-looking Hermione, a Ron sitting with his face very red, and an anxious Harry pacing in the background.

"What's going on?" Annabeth asked.

"Malfoy just Apparated to the Weasley's house. He was bleeding and —" Hermione turned her face to the side, pale. "He looks like he's been tortured by Voldemort himself. Which, Harry suspects, isn't far from the truth."

Harry walked towards the fountain. "Listen, Draco and I talked when we burned Rachel's shroud. He said that his father was going to ask him to join the Death Eaters but that he would fight back. I'm sure that's what's just happened."

"Can't you ask the guy?" I said, confused.

"No, Percy, he's completely unconscious," Hermione told me, giving me an odd look. "Mrs. Weasley's treating him right now, but she said there's only so much she can do against Dark Magic. Sirius is helping her."

Annabeth looked at me. "Should we go back?"

As desperately as I wanted to help, I knew we couldn't. "No. Right now isn't the best time, and it'll only mean more mouths to feed for Mrs. Weasley. We can't go now. But keep us posted!"

"We will. The connection's fading. We'll talk later," said Harry, before the fountain that had erupted on me before sputtered and died.

"We have to tell Chiron," Annabeth worried.

"Yeah," I agreed regretfully, not sure what had just happened. "Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

**POV: Harry**

 _Disclaimer: I only half own the computer I'm typing this on._

Chapter 4

* * *

 _I looked around me. It was all marble stone, cold floors, tinged with an oddly blue light. I was trapped, trapped between rows and rows and shelves and shelves cluttered with nothing but fog-swirled blue orbs of light. Some had cobwebs, some were gray, some looked like they would fragile, others glowed bright. But it didn't matter what I saw when I looked at the crystal globes. I didn't want to be here._

 _Anywhere but here._

 _A scream in the darkness, a loud hiss. "She won't wake," said the disembodied voice of the Ministry's elevator. And there lay Rachel, broken and spread-eagled, blood not the only thing pouring out of her body._

 _The green fog leaving her mouth and ears and nose swirled up into a form, the form of a beautiful girl now gone, and then disintegrated into a very solid snake._

" _Harry?" It was Sirius._

" _No, get out of here, Sirius! The snake_ —"

" _Harry?" He took two steps towards me. "Harry Potter?" he repeated, in a voice that was his and yet sounded so different from his that I took a step back and faltered._

" _Harry."_

 _The snake, now at his feet, lunged. Not at me, but at his neck. And the only family I had left toppled to the floor, his grey eyes void of life._

 _The only thing that was alive now was the snake._

 _It wasn't a snake now, though. Its red eyes grew to human size, and there was Voldemort. Eyes of a serpent, slitted nostrils, a crimson fury growing in his eyes. "Hello, Draco."_

 _He took his wand and pressed it against my chest, right where my heart should be. And I was suddenly on fire._

* * *

Draco was in a coma-like state, not asleep nor awake, not eating or drinking anything, and almost not breathing.

The demigods were not coming until late July, and it was a whole week before July even arrived.

And so I simply spent my time shut up in the Burrow with my two best friends. It rained — poured, honestly — for three days until the sun deigned itself worthy enough to show itself again. Ron seemed in a foul mood the whole time, and it wasn't hard to see why — with Malfoy currently residing in the Burrow, in Fred and George's old room, he wasn't too happy.

"What happened to him anyway?" Ron asked multiple times a day, but his tone was not concerned.

"Ronald!" Hermione reproached him.

But both of them turned their eyes to me whenever the subject came up. I, after all, had been the last person to talk to Malfoy before leaving Hogwarts. I had so far been quite successful at averting my eyes from my two friends' whenever they looked to me for answers. I had a dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach, the kind of nervous ache that caused me to taste acid in my mouth for days.

I knew, or at least suspected, what had happened to Malfoy. And I didn't want to think about it, much less say it. Ever since the night after Malfoy had shown up, the dreams were just getting worse. I hadn't told Ron or Hermione about them; doing so would feel like I was telling another person's story for them without even knowing how accurate it was.

So we simply had to wait until Malfoy woke up now.

* * *

I thumped my way down the stairs. The rain had let up a bit, but the sky was still marbled with dark clouds. Ginny and Ron had wanted to play some Quidditch outside, but Mrs. Weasley had forcefully objected, claiming that with these clouds, they didn't want to get shot down by lightning now did they?

Ginny and Ron had both gulped and cringed at that. Percy's having been electrocuted by lightning while at a Quidditch match at Hogwarts was not a new story to either them or Mrs. Weasley, and after seeing the side effects of lightning, they weren't too eager to try it out themselves.

The soft pitter-patter of a slight misting rain outside rang against the roof of the Burrow as I entered the kitchen. I hadn't eaten since this morning; now that it was already two in the afternoon I was hungry again. I didn't — couldn't — blame Mrs. Weasley for being too busy attending to Malfoy to prepare a big lunch.

Instead, I heard voices — distinctly male voices — discussing something in the kitchen. It couldn't be Ginny, Hermione, or Ron, since they were all upstairs, and Mr. Weasley was still at work. I stopped right before the doorway and, hating myself, listened in.

"— only getting worse now. Word is that Voldemort has been terrorizing muggle neighborhoods and tearing through them all week, leaving nothing but dead bodies in his wake." I could recognize the voice, but it took me a minute to realize it was Lupin who was talking.

"Sounds like he's angry." Sirius sounded indifferent.

"No, Pads, it sounds like he's looking for something. Or more importantly, someone," Lupin insisted.

There was a pause before Sirius added, "Angrily."

Lupin made an audible huffing noise.

"Listen, Rem," started Sirius. "Whatever he's looking for, we've got the best wards we can possibly put up on this house right here. He's not going to get far over here."

"Be that as it is, I don't want you or Harry going anywhere near the Ministry right now. There are several Ministry workers under the Imperius Curse right now, and the Death Eaters are over there. No," Lupin said firmly.

My heart sank. Sirius and I had set a date to go back to the Ministry: he wanted to register as an Animagus and there was also the possibility of filling out adoption papers. So far, I had been avoiding discussing the topic with Sirius. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I thought about it, as if making Sirius officially adopt me would somehow be taboo. I couldn't explain it, but my instinct was warning enough these days.

"Harry?"

I had been so focused on my own thoughts that I hadn't heard Sirius and Lupin walking out of the kitchen. Now, Sirius' voice snapped me back to reality. His inquiry had sounded a little _too_ much like that Sirius in my nightmare days ago, right before the snake struck him with its poison. " _Harry?"_

"How long have you been standing there, Harry?" Lupin asked worriedly.

"Not long at all," I stuttered.

Sirius looked me in the eye, faking seriousness. "Liar," he laughed. "What did you want from the kitchen? Remus and I are done in there."

"Oh, I just wanted to grab something to eat. It's been hours since breakfast." I internally sighed in relief when Sirius ignored the fact I'd just been eavesdropping. Lupin, however, eyed me suspiciously.

"What did you hear, Harry?" he asked.

"Why does it matter?" Sirius retaliated before I could say anything, his voice calm. "Harry deserves to know the truth about what is going on in the world." Lupin raised an eyebrow at Sirius. "What?" Sirius asked. "It's true!"

Just then, Mrs. Weasley appeared behind me, eyes wide and gasping. "He's asking to see you!"

"Who?" I asked, befuddled. "Ron?"

"No, not Ron, Malfoy! He's awake and he said he wants to see you!"

Even though I was alleviated at the news that Malfoy was awake, I only became more confused. "He wants to see _me?"_

Mrs. Weasley nodded vigorously. "Come on, Harry! He refuses to let me touch him!"

Bewildered, I followed her up to the twins' old room. He was there, wrapped up from head to toe in bandages, his blond hair still tinged with some brown from old blood. Both his feet were wrapped up with several layers of gray cloth, and though Mrs. Weasley had done an excellent job of cleaning him up and taking the blood away, his face was covered in ugly scars that were not yet healed.

"Finally decided to get your arse up here, then, Potter?"

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for all the support and reviews and let me say that I am terribly sorry that the updates have been so infrequent! I'm working on it and trying to type chapters in advance, but life is always something that gets in the way. Also, I lost inspiration for this chapter and it took me forever to actually start writing productively.**

 **I promise that the next chapter will be up in two weeks (next weekend is Labor Day weekend so don't expect anything) and it will be much longer! Don't forget to leave a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks again for all the support, especially to Percabeth (guest) who left me an amazing, inspirational review! They are always welcome, even if they're short!**

 **POV: Harry**

 _Disclaimer: I don't own it :(_

* * *

Chapter 5

"Finally decided to get your arse up here, then, Potter?" Draco said, but I noticed the way he cringed even as he said it. I approached the bed he was sitting up in slowly, as if it crawling with insects. As I did, it was hard to miss all the small injuries on his face, arms — _everywhere._ There were little scars freckling every piece of visible skin — some of them mostly healed, a lot of them not.

And then there were the bigger scars — one of them, lining from the widow's peak on the top of his forehead down to his upper lip, I knew would probably be there for the rest of his life.

"You wanted to talk to me?" I asked, still not quite next to the bed. Mrs. Weasley was watching intently, but what for I had no idea.

"Mrs—ah—Weasley, could you…?" Malfoy said, nodding his head as best he could at the still-open door. I started for a moment, shocked at how polite his tone was.

Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to think that good manners and polite words excused a person from coming from a family of Death Eaters. She raised an eyebrow at me, silently questioning if I would be okay, then suddenly decided I would. Malfoy, after all, was severely injured and probably couldn't reach his wand despite the fact that it was right on his bedside table. "Yell if you need me," she said before leaving and closing the door behind her.

Well, I certainly hoped I wouldn't have to be yelling for help anytime soon.

I looked back at Malfoy. He had reclined a bit into the pillows behind his back, and his face seemed to be getting paler by the moment. "Are you —" I started.

"I'm fine," he said, though it sounded more of a hiss that escaped his lips than actual words. "Not exactly comfortable like this." He pointed towards his gray-wrapped legs, then pulled his arm back as if it had been slapped. "Ow."

I waited, not knowing what to say. Not knowing what to do.

"Well, sit down, Potter. It's not as if I'm going to get up to receive you."

I internally laughed at the haughty, arrogant voice. How was he managing to act like this when his whole body was wrapped in healing bandages? I sat down, but on the very edge of the bed. I didn't want to cause him any more pain; he was already experiencing a lot, probably more than he let on. Where had the whimpering thirteen-year-old Malfoy that cried when a hippogriff scratched him gone?

After a long silence, interrupted only by short gasps of breath from Malfoy, who seemed to be trying to get himself more comfortable in the bed, I finally spoke up. "I'm assuming I know exactly what happened to get you in this position?"

"Take a guess," Malfoy snarled, his breath catching and his face an unnatural pallor.

"What did he do?" I asked, as gently as I could. My voice came out as a whisper.

"By 'he', do you mean my father or… _him?_ " Malfoy asked. He had finally settled down and was breathing lightly. From the way he said _him,_ he was obviously referring to Voldemort. Who else?

His gray eyes caught mine and I looked away, not knowing what else to do.

"Both. Either one. As long as you answer the question."

Malfoy sighed, and it looked like that simple motion caused him pain. "I went downstairs. _He_ wanted me to join. And not later. That day. He wanted to put the Mark in my arm that day. Which, speaking of, what day is it?"

I counted in my head. "It's been nearly four days. Today's the twenty-eighth."

"Merlin! That long?" He'd sat up when I said this. I pushed him back onto the pillows, gently.

"What do you mean, that long?"

"I can't… I don't… oh, _gods."_ He groaned and put his head in his hands.

"Pick that up from Annabeth, did you?"

He looked up at me. "What the— what are you —? Oh. Yes, I spent too much time around the demigods, don't you think?"

I nodded, even though I _didn't_ think. "Tell me the rest of the story, Malfoy. Don't get distracted again," I warned him.

"Or you'll…?" he asked, finishing the implied statement. "Oh, I suppose you'll find out another way anyway."

And so Malfoy leaned back again. And he told me what had happened four days ago, when he had been pressured to join the Dark Lord's inner circle of Death Eaters. What had happened when he put up his Occlumency shields too quickly and Voldemort figured it out easily. What happened when Voldemort realized Draco had no intention of joining him. And what had happened when Draco broke Voldemort's Cruciatus Curse.

Apparently, that curse had only been the beginning of his torture. I had been under the Cruciatus myself, and I had no plan of experiencing it again. But from Draco's story, I would have appreciated the Unforgivable compared to the other things that the Dark Lord had done, had used as torture methods.

I felt sick after just listening to the story. Only a couple of words into his retelling, I found out I just couldn't watch his face while he talked about it. So I was still staring at the mold-infested ceiling of George and Fred's room when I heard a snort.

I thought he was laughing at first. I was wrong.

I looked back down and Malfoy was crying. The snort had been an inhale taken too sharply through a stuffy nose. It was silent, utterly and completely silent. The tears just fell down and fell down and fell and fell and fell, but he did not make a single sound.

I had no idea how to react. He would probably not appreciate the sentiments of a hug, or even a friendly shoulder-pat. The words slipped out of my mouth instead. "I'm sorry."

Malfoy looked away from my face, wiping the tears off. "Why is it," he started, his voice sounding as haughty as I'd ever heard it, "that you sentimental people always say sorry when it's not your fault?"

I opened my mouth, not sure how to respond, but he cut me off instead.

"Well, of course," Draco muttered, "it likely _is_ your fault this time around. What with being the Boy-Who-Lived and all."

I pressed my lips together tightly. For a long time now, I had been surrounded by people who constantly told me it wasn't my fault, all these people died because of other reasons, and _Harry-stop-grieving-when-it's-not-your-fault-you-need-to-be-strong._ But here, here was a person who for _once_ was willing to tell me the truth. And not care about how I felt about it.

To be honest, though, after being surrounded by friends who acted like bubble-wrap, it was mostly refreshing. So instead of storming out of the room as my usual attitude would have mandated me to do, I started laughing.

It was just a giggle at first. Draco's head snapped up and he looked at me as if I were the most insane person on the planet.

I started laughing for real then. It felt like forever since I had actually felt joy — no, that wasn't quite the word for it; it was more of _ecstasy_ and _laughing-for-absolutely-no-reason-whatsoever._ Draco simply looked at me.

For a couple very long minutes, I was laughing.

"Mental," he muttered, "absolutely mental."

But it was hard to miss the smile that tugged on the edges of his lips right then.

* * *

 **A/N: After this chapter, I feel like everyone will think I'm leaning towards Drarry. I'm not.**

 **At least, not unless you tell me to. ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I had a bit of extra time, so an extra long chapter for you!**

 **POV: Harry, Percy**

 _Disclaimer: Oh, you're looking at me? J.K. Rowling and Uncle Rick are over there, on the side of the coffee shop explicitly titled "Those Who Deserve It." Go ogle at them, please._

* * *

Chapter 6

"What did you talk about?" For the smartest witch of her age, Hermione could be quite oblivious to how obvious she was being.

"I already told you, Hermione," I sighed. "He told me the story of what happened."

She stomped her foot on the floor. Ron, who was only half-listening to our conversation as he inspected the box of goods Fred and George had sent him from the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, flinched away from her foot, which had landed very near his face. "Why can't you just tell me what he told you? Did he tell you not to tell me? That —"

"Hermione!" I interjected, raising my hands. "He did not tell me to refrain from giving you any information about what we talked about. He did not tell me to specifically hold back his story, and he didn't tell me to tell you either!" I let my hands drop, my short outburst of words over. "I think that he should be the one to tell you, though. I don't want to be spreading other people's stories."

"Then why did he not ask me to come talk to him at any point today? Or any of us besides you? What makes you so special?" Hermione resumed her pacing.

"That I have been in Voldemort's presence before," I said, my voice having dropped to a deadly quiet tone. "That, and perhaps just the fact that I was the one who talked to him about not surrendering to the Dark and fighting back against Voldemort when he, inevitably, asked him to join the Death Eaters?"

Hermione stopped pacing, sat down on the bed, and shut her mouth.

Ginny, who had been following the entire conversation with amusement, her _Quidditch Through the Ages_ copy forgotten in front of her as she lay stomach-down on the floor, looked back down at her book now. "Good one, Harry," she said contentedly, a smirk on her face.

I didn't pay her attention this time. I didn't want to be congratulated on reprimanding one of my best friends. Instead, I looked back down at my own book and ran my hand through Hedwig's feathers, letting her nibble on my ear.

It was a long time before Hermione broke the silence. I hadn't realized she was now on the brink of tears. " _That's_ what happened to him? He — _Voldemort_ did that to him?"

I looked up, affronted, but was saved from having to answer by Ron. "Er, _duh,_ Hermione. What _else_ could possibly have happened?" He lowered his voice. "I thought it was obvious he was put under You-Kno—Voldemort's torture. No one else would do something that horrible."

 _Well put, Ron,_ I thought. I was still in a state of shock that Hermione had not put the pieces together before now. I thought she had already known, maybe even before _I_ had known. That's what was commonplace; Hermione figuring everything out much quicker than anyone else.

But not this time, apparently. A thought popped into my head; what if Hermione hadn't put it all together because she refused to let herself believe that? Because she didn't want to even think of Malfoy going through that?

If that was the case, well, my friend was in. Head over heels.

* * *

The next morning was sunny and bright, the first in a long string of rainy days. Hermione stayed inside, reading (of course, what else was there to do?) all day despite our constant efforts to get her outside. I didn't know if she was so upset because of what had happened to Draco or because she hadn't figured it out faster.

Either way, I eventually figured that it was best to leave her to grieve over whatever she was grieving about.

Sirius had left with Remus early in the morning, barely after the sun began to rise. To do what, I wasn't sure. "Order business," according to Mrs. Weasley. When I tried to get another answer out of her, she told me, a bit snappily, "they were called in by Professor Dumbledore." And that was the end of it.

Draco did not allow anyone but me and, reluctantly, Mrs. Weasley to visit him. I told him what Hermione had said last night and he laughed (immediately after clutching at his broken ribs and wheezing). He then muttered something along the lines of, "doesn't know what she's getting into." I frowned but didn't know how to respond. So I didn't.

It was around three in the afternoon that my day got bizarre.

Hermione had convinced Ron, Ginny and I to get inside and do some homework. I went over to my trunk and fell over when I heard a loud cracking noise, as if a lightning bolt had hit the house right outside.

No such thing had happened. The sky was clear as it had been before. But there was now a house elf standing on my trunk, at the foot of my bed.

" _Dobby?"_ It was Hermione.

Dobby was still wearing all of the hats that Hermione had made for S.P.E.W. last year. And when I say _all_ of them, I mean _all of them._ It looked like the house elf had tripled in height, for his head was covered with dozens of hand-knit hats of all different colors — neon and pastel and dull alike. The combination with his two mismatched socks, one of which was the one I'd given him through Lucius Malfoy's diary, was quite… extravagant. And blinding.

Despite the fact that the house elf had just Apparated into the Burrow, from who-knows how far away, not a single hat tipped from its fragile position in the stack. There was only one explanation, and I was surprised to find I still wasn't used to magical occurrences like this one even five years after entering the magical world.

Hermione got up. " _Dobby_?" she repeated, dumbfounded. "What are —"

Ron snorted.

"— Are those my _hats?"_ She looked stricken.

"Yes, Miss Hermione Granger!" Dobby exclaimed happily. "Dobby kept finding them in the Gryffindor common room and Dobby decided to take them since none of the other house elves would!" The house elf said it was a sort of pride.

"I thought that the house elves loved my gifts and kept taking them, but it's really just been — you?" Hermione now looked like she'd been unknowingly used or victimized.

"Yes! Dobby has taken Miss Hermione Granger's gifts!"

Ron made a sort of strangled coughing sound that I soon realized was laughter.

"Ronald W—"

"I told you they didn't want them, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, trying to keep a straight face though a smile tugged at his lips.

She simply made a sound of frustration and flopped down on her bed. "But I thought—"

Dobby cut her off, something I was grateful for at the moment. "Dobby has come to tell Harry Potter terrible news."

My smile dropped.

"Oh no," started Ginny. "What happened?"

Dobby stood still. "It is only for Master Potter's ears."

"What? Why can't we hear?" Hermione asked.

"Dobby was told to give this information to only Mister Harry Potter," the house elf insisted stiffly, in a tone I had never before heard him use.

"Go on," I whispered to my friends, who one by one filed out of the room. Hermione was heard as she left, mumbling about her poor hats and S.P.E.W. program.

"What is it, Dobby?" I asked the elf, urgently. He looked at the door and snapped his fingers (probably to make a muffling charm so my friends couldn't eavesdrop), then looked back at me.

"Professor Dumbledore has found something, Harry Potter. He couldn't come all the way so he sent Dobby to tell Harry Potter." The house elf's huge green eyes bulged as he said it.

"What?" I asked, completely dumbfounded.

"He wouldn't tell Dobby what exactly, but he said it's very important. There was a man with Professor Dumbledore when Dobby was there."

"What man?"

"Another professor, Dobby thinks, sir. He was very large and had a big moustache. Dobby thinks he has seen him somewhere before."

I shook my head. There was no professor that matched that description, unless he was the new DADA teacher, but it seemed too soon after the expulsion of Umbridge for that. "And what exactly did Dumbledore say?"

The elf stared into my eyes. I felt uncomfortable, but didn't look away.

"The professor says he has found a way to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

 _What,_ I thought bitterly sarcastically, _by killing him?_

"There are some evils in this world that Dobby does not wish to speak of," said the elf melancholically, looking down at the socks on his feet. "But Harry Potter must know that Professor Dumbledore wants to see him soon."

"When?"

"He did not say, sir. He only could say that he would stop by when the time was right."

"Dobby, why did he send—"

But the elf was already gone.

* * *

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Draco asked in a stiff tone. "My old house elf — the one you set free and gave my father a heart attack over — shows up here and tells you that Dumbledore has _at last_ found a way to defeat him?"

I was surprised that Draco had the guts to speak about his father, but not say Voldemort's name yet. Nevertheless, I pushed the thought away. "Apparently. And Dumbledore wants to see me really soon, but he hasn't said when exactly."

"And then?"

"Dobby Disapparated."

Draco cursed under his breath. "What's that supposed to mean?" he repeated.

"I dunno."

"Well, we better figure this out soon. And who was that other man with Dumbledore? He said… what, exactly?"

"That he looked like a professor to Dobby."

"Have we gotten another Defence professor already?" Draco asked smugly.

"I doubt it," I said, "but I don't know for sure."

"Well, that's absolutely wonderful."

"Look, I'm going to go and talk with the others," I told him, referencing Hermione, Ron and Ginny, "but I'll be back up soon."

He muttered something and waved his hand, a sign of dismissal. I left Fred and George's old room, allowing Malfoy to ponder whatever it was he wanted to ponder.

I'd told Hermione, Ron and Ginny about my discussion with Dobby as soon as the house elf had left. Hermione had simply sat down, a look both dark and confused on her face, and picked up her wand and books. She was still holding her wand in a death grip when I re-entered the room. Ron had looked as confused than I felt, and Ginny muttered something about feeding Pigwidgeon. Whatever that meant.

Despite that, she and Hermione were talking in low whispers as I walked back into the room. There was a new owl, sitting atop Hermione's head, it's feathers ruffled and a rumpled card in its beak. I recognized the owl solely by its behavior; only Annabeth's owl would sit on people's heads like that.

"Hermione? What's Merlin doing here?"

"Well, I don't know. He came in, landed on my head, and has refused to get off or let anyone take the letter," she said irritably.

"From Annabeth? Or Percy?"

"No, Harry," Hermione said, looking at me exasperatedly. "Remember, Annabeth left Merlin in the Owlery at Hogwarts? And Percy's cat is probably walking around the halls somewhere too. They couldn't take him all the way back to America. So this letter —" she pointed at the owl on her head, retracting her hand quickly when Merlin tried to bite her "— came from Hogwarts."

I walked towards her cautiously. Sure enough, Merlin left her head and flew to mine instead, then leaned his beak down and offered me the letter. I fed him an owl treat in return, and he left my head to move to the windowsill.

It only took me a minute to read through the letter. "What's it say, Harry?" Ginny asked concernedly.

I gulped, looking up, before reading the card. "' _Dear Harry, I am currently on business in the United States, with Percy and Annabeth. I will be back soon, and will need to talk to you urgently. The two exchange students will be returning to London sooner than we expected. I hope Dobby got my message to you, although I was a bit miffed that he expected me to pay him three Sickles for the job. I'm sorry I could not be clearer about my intentions. I will explain everything when I return in a week with Percy and Annabeth. Dumbledore.'_ "

I looked up.

Hermione seemed very content with herself, while everyone else looked at me in confusion. "What's with you?" I asked suspiciously.

She beamed at me. "Didn't you hear him, Harry? Dobby asked for three Sickles for the job!"

* * *

It had been a long day, and now it was nearing lights out. We were still in the Big House, revising some of Annabeth's new camp Activities plans on her Daedalus laptop, when we heard the clopping outside the door.

"Chiron?" Annabeth asked, not looking up. Her demigod hearing was, as usual, on point.

"May we come in?" came his muffled voice through the door.

'We?' I mouthed at Annabeth, who shrugged. She got up and opened the door.

"Professor Dumbledore!"

 _Oh, so the wizarding world needs our help again?_ I sighed, before getting up from my chair as well.

"Hello, Percy, hello, Annabeth."

"Hi professor," I greeted. Chiron stood next to the old man, on all four hoofed legs, looking down at us with a sort of expression of mixed concern and bewilderment. He didn't say anything while Dumbledore stepped forward, his purple robes swishing around his feet and his white beard swaying from side to side.

"Um, uh, to what do we owe this visit?" She gestured wildly with her hands, trying to be polite.

"I am afraid I have some very bad and good news at the same time."

"Let's hear the bad first," I interjected, wrapping an arm around Annabeth's shoulders.

"Well, that's actually not what I came here for." The old man's blue eyes twinkled. What mischief was this? I looked at Annabeth, confused, only to find that she was looking back with the same expression.

"See, Percy, Annabeth, you will be entering your seventh year at Hogwarts next year. Most students your age already know one fundamental skill you have not yet been taught."

"What would that be?" I inquired, intrigued.

He smiled, the wrinkles at his eyes and the corners of his mouth wrinkling up as he did. "I am here to teach you how to Apparate."

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed that! And, no, there will not be Drarry. Just to confirm. :) Leave me a review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I apologize for the wait. I know it's been a while. Also, the first part of this chapter is very confusing - I know so because even as the one who wrote it, it confuses me. So there's your warning.**

 **POV: Draco, Percy**

 _Disclaimer: Who, me? Nuh-uh, you're looking at the wrong person. Type in the letters "jk" and "rick" in Google and they should come up as "I'm feeling lucky"._

* * *

Chapter 7

Darkness flooded my thoughts during waking and sleeping hours alike. It was hard to figure out what was going on and keep up with the outside world when you were caged in by your own mind.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived to Ruin My Life, kept bringing me information periodically. I listened to his words. I reacted in a way that could be considered sensible. But only half of my mind was focused on what I said and did. The other part had been enveloped by a murky, filthily dark fog. And it was there that I spent most of my days.

It was as though what had happened to me was all but a memory; distant, yet near, horrible to think about, but impossible off of which to take the mind. And I was absolutely trapped, stuck in an abysmal endless cosmos where only these thoughts pervaded my every sense of existence.

My body was under the control of my own mind, yes. But was I in control of that part of my mind?

It didn't seem so.

It seemed, instead, as if I was experiencing my own life through a stranger's eyes — as if through a dream. But I knew somewhere inside me that life was going on, as it should, and the only thing wrong was that side of me in which I was trapped.

I knew I had to get out of this trench of overwhelming misery and darkness. My body kept going, yes — but my soul did not.

So I started to wake up.

* * *

I knew the hole of darkness was gone as soon as I opened my eyes. Every memory for the past few weeks had seemed dull, monotone in a way; almost monochromatic yet hosting every color of the rainbow at the same time. Now, I felt my body blink, and when my eyelids opened once more, it was relief. All the usual bright colors of everyday things surrounded me; I felt soft, worn-down sheets (quite — ahem, _different_ — from the ones at my own house) beneath me. And the air that hit me was fresher than any horrid smell I'd been breathing in the night abyss, even though, I reasoned, it mustn't be all that good if I'm in a Weasley's stuffy, under decorated bedroom.

Relief, along with a whole lot of pain. It was as if the past few weeks, I hadn't felt anything happening to me. Now, the pain of all my stiff and sore joints hit. I felt every individual bruise, and my arms and legs felt as though the thread holding them together had ripped apart.

The feet were worst of all. I vaguely remembered Voldemort doing something hideous to the soles — what had that been?

My question was answered when I looked down. Both propped up on pillows, my feet were bandaged like there was no tomorrow. But by the circumference of the object that the bandages covered, my feet were very narrow. Too thin.

 _That's right,_ I remembered bitterly. _Voldemort ripped my feet off. Nice to remember that._

I winced. Just the thought was painful, after living through the real experience.

And just as I was getting used to being back in my own body for the first time in a long time, Harry Potter had to walk into the room.

 _Why?_ I mentally moaned. He was carrying a _Daily Prophet_ that looked like it had already been used to hit someone over the head multiple times, a frown on his face.

"What's the matter, Potter?" I asked him, feeling like I was actually in control of the words coming out of my mouth in contrast to the long time in the hole when my body spouted out things without my doing.

"Hermione's been looking over the prophecy again. You should see the annotations she's made on the thing, there's not a square centimeter of blank parchment left," he sighed, sitting down in the chair that he always sat in.

"Who's surprised?" I asked, smirking and accepting the newspaper he held out to me. Harry raised an eyebrow but said nothing as I let my eyes rove and skim over today's headlines.

The Boy Who Lived muttered something unintelligible, and I decided after a brief moment's hesitation not to ask him to clarify his words. Instead I let him continue to talk to me as I scanned the words in front of me, sometimes not quite processing what I was reading and having to reread it over again.

"— she's been going over it constantly. Ron reckons that Annabeth and Percy are right, that prophecies don't make sense until they're completed."

"Is that so?" I asked nonchalantly. "Sounds like Wea—Ron is actually smarter than Hermione for once."

Harry nodded, exasperated, then put his head in his hands. "I've agreed with him and Hermione says we're both bollocks."

"Well, aren't you?" I smirked again.

"Draco," Harry simply said, looking at me with a bored expression. He sighed. "Some things never change, do they?"

"No idea what you mean by that, _Potter_ ," I replied sarcastically.

"Exactly that. That's what I meant." He eyed me warily, but I could sense that it was in a joking way.

This time, my smirk wasn't malicious or sarcastic.

* * *

"Mr. Jackson, this simply is not working."

I slowly opened my eyes after squeezing them tighter. I didn't want to face Professor Dumbledore's disappointment.

It had been three days; three _miserable_ days that Dumbledore had been teaching Annabeth and I to Apparate. Annabeth had moved about an inch the first day, and by today was already able to Apparate to Camp Half-Blood's border and back.

The first time, I had somehow managed to splinch my eyebrows right off my face. That was the most I had done in these three miserable days. I hadn't been able to Apparate _at all_ since then.

Dumbledore had begun suspecting about an hour ago that it was a side effect of my ADHD — my inability to focus in other words.

I had protested that that couldn't be the case, since Annabeth seemed to have no problem Apparating whatsoever. Dumbledore argued right back, saying that her Animagus studies (I don't really know who told him, but he knew somehow) were helping her center her focus whereas I didn't have anything of the sort.

That had shut me up and, frankly, put me in a _quite_ bad mood.

Which, as anyone can imagine, would make trying to focus on Apparating even harder. Annabeth had tried to propose different solutions, but nothing was working.

"Percy, we've been over this before, but is there anything, _especially_ anything in a magical area, that focuses you more than anything else?" Professor Dumbledore asked, kindly and patient but yet simultaneously disappointed in my lack of progress.

"I already told you, Professor. Sword fighting is really the only thing I enjoy that helps me focus." I in fact had told him this. We had tried to make me think I was sword fighting to focus me and make me Apparate. It was honestly useless.

Annabeth, who had just appeared two inches away from me with another obnoxious _CRACK,_ put her hand on my shoulder comfortingly.

"Professor, what if we tried using the ocean again…?" she proposed open-endingly. Yesterday, Annabeth had had the _lovely_ idea of trying to make me use water as a medium through which to Apparate instead of open air and space. It made sense, given my ancestry and power with water, but I had tried to Apparate underwater numerous times and all it led to was me shooting out of the water like a rocket, spinning rapidly. What a sight.

"No, Miss Chase. As much as I dislike to, I daresay that that has proven an inefficient method. Perhaps we can try it later, but he must be able to Apparate normally first."

What focused me? Transfiguration was definitely off of the list. Same with Defense and Charms. Patronus charms were something I yet couldn't do fully. And —

"Potions!" I yelled.

Annabeth hesitantly took her hands off my shoulders at my sudden outburst. Dumbledore eyed me but smiled as if he already knew what I was thinking.

"What, Perce?" Annabeth asked me.

"Potions, remember? You wondered all year how I was doing so well in Potions. It's something I can actually focus on. It's definitely not as strong as sword fighting, but I mean —"

"We can surely try it, my boy," Dumbledore said, his eye twinkling above the half-moon glasses.

Spoiler alert: that didn't work either. I was so certain I'd found something magical that would help me focus and Apparate and then — bam. Nope. I lost basically all hope.

I wasn't the only disappointed one. Dumbledore rubbed his beard, eyebrows furrowed as he muttered to himself. Annabeth gave me a piteous look, one that I utterly loathed. I hated not being able to do things. It only brought me back to the time before I found Camp Half-Blood, at Yancy Academy and all the schools before that with all their bullies.

I walked away from the two of them, shaking off Annabeth's grip. We were near the beach already; all it took was for me to walk into the water until my entire head was under.

I floated underwater for a while, breathing normally, looking up through the surface of the water at the blue sky above. It was such a deep blue that it reminded me of a river.

I shifted over to face downward, watching the beautiful crystalline water of the ocean gradient into a deep murky black. This reminded me of a river once again, but a much different one than the one I thought of when looking at the sky.

I tilted my head, still thinking as my body naturally turned over again to face the sky. I was still underwater, my head maybe five feet under the surface. The cogs in my head started turning once more. Dumbledore had said I survived the Killing Curse because of the Curse of Achilles. The Curse of Achilles grounded whoever had it to earth, but not by mortality; instead, the thing that bound you was what helped you survive the path to get the curse itself.

So, Annabeth had pulled me out of the Styx. So she was the bind between me and earth. What if there was more to the Achilles than it seemed?

I rose out of the water. This was an interesting thought. Could my curse and blessing be preventing me from Apparating in some way?

Only one way to find out, I guess.

* * *

 **A/N: I know this chapter was relatively short and I haven't been posting regularly. I won't be updating every week from now on; there is too much going on, and I'm dedicating more time to other things. This story** _ **will**_ **be completed, but I don't know when or how long it will take.**

 **For now, the updating will be irregular and whenever I have enough time/ideas to write. The next chapter may be put up tomorrow or next month. Here's to the hope it won't stay that way for long. :)**

 **As always, thanks for reading and if you would take the time to leave me a little review I would greatly appreciate it!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello again! It's been a while, hasn't it? Much love to you all for the amazing and supportive reviews! Hopefully, if I can get myself to focus, I'll get two chapters up this week! This by itself is a longer chapter. Enjoy, and as always, leave me a review!**

 **POV: Harry**

 _Disclaimer: Look elsewhere for the owners._

* * *

Chapter 8

Apparently, Draco claimed that he had just "woken up". He told me that before, it had felt like he'd just been watching everything that happened from outside his own body, and wasn't in control of himself, but now, he had woken himself up and was actually in his body.

I had no clue what he meant. When I told him this, he tried to explain it to me again, but I cut him off.

Some things are better left unexplained.

Despite the curiosity of his predicament, he seemed to be healing much better now. His feet had grown back halfway, or so Mrs. Weasley said. His scars were fading, and his cheeks were bright. And more that that, I began to notice that he hadn't just made that story up. Before, his tone had been dead, his skin so pale it was nearly gray. But now, he spoke animatedly, his skin was flushed, his eyes didn't look clouded over. It really did seem that Draco Malfoy had returned to his own body.

I shook my head thinking about it. This was too complicated. Instead, I looked back down at the notes Hermione had given me and forced me to read. Notes about the prophecy, or so she suggested. Ron and I had given up on trying to convince her otherwise, dropping the demigods' ideas that prophecies don't make sense until fulfilled. And since prophecies were self-fulfilling, there really was no way to know what was going to happen.

Percy and Annabeth had been due to show up at the Burrow yesterday, the first of July. Instead, some minor complications that they said they couldn't discuss with us had come up, and their travel back to Britain would be postponed until further notice.

Fred and George, having finished their seventh and last year at Hogwarts, had sent news from Diagon Alley, where they had bought a dingy shop in a side street and were planning to remodel and remake it completely. I had tried my best to keep my smile to myself when Mrs. Weasley asked herself "But wherever did they get the money?" Again, some things were better left unexplained.

This one especially, since telling her exactly where they got the money would make Mrs. Weasley simultaneously try to kill me and repay me with anything she owned. I wasn't about to let that happen.

"—otter. Harry!"

Apparently, I had drifted off into a stupor, and not noticed when Draco had started talking to me.

"Sorry, yeah. What were you saying?"

Malfoy looked at me with an expression of irritation that even Hermione couldn't rival.

"Well, obviously I was talking about something incredibly important but nothing's important enough to merit the attention of the great —"

"Malfoy." I was sure that my expression now mirrored his.

"Yes, yes, whatever. Help me get up, would you?"

I looked at him as though he had asked me to bake him a cake. "What?"

"Yes, you raving lunatic. I asked if you would _help me get up,_ now I think that it might be decent if you did." There was the snobby Malfoy I knew.

"But Draco —"

"Don't 'but Draco" me. I heard it enough from Crabbe and Goyle, those two big idiots. I'm fine. You heard the mother hen, she said I could be up and walking anytime soon."

"Your feet —" I tried to protest again, but was once more cut off.

"My feet are fine." Even as he said it, he cringed. It was almost unnoticeable, but it was definitely there.

"Your feet are only half there," I pointed out, raising my eyebrows.

He glared at me. "My _half_ -feet are fine, then." I gave him another odd look. "Listen, Potter, Harry, whatever your name actually is, I have been sitting and lying in this bed in this stuffy bedroom for far too long. I want to get up. I want to do something, even if that is just walking a couple of feet." He looked at me, not snobbily or proudly, but pleadingly.

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, Malfoy, Draco, whatever your name actually is, but if you fall down the stairs and break your neck, it's not my fault."

"I need to see other people, Harry." He said it so sincerely, even my name, that I was taken aback for a moment.

It passed quickly. I looked at him suspiciously. "You know that you could've just asked for me to tell them to come up here, Draco?"

"But you know me, Potter, that would have ruined my pride." He put his nose up as far as he could.

"Of course. The great Draco Malfoy, able to withstand V—He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," I quickly corrected myself, knowing how raw the wounds Voldemort had given him still were, "but not a person seeing him weak and helpless in bed."

He shot me a death glare. "Yes, precisely. It's wounding enough to my ego that I have to ask _you_ to help. Had I not changed in the past few weeks, I would have tried to get up by myself and likely fallen flat on my face." I raised an eyebrow. Now that I thought about it, why _hadn't_ Draco tried to get up by himself? It would make perfect sense, given the size of his ego. But instead he'd asked for help — and not only asked, but asked _me._ What had happened to change Draco Malfoy so much? I obviously had not understood how badly Voldemort had damaged him.

Draco, however, seemed oblivious to my thoughts, and kept talking. "Now that we're both on the same page, would you _please_ —" he said it like it caused him physical pain "— help me up?"

"All right, then," I said, feigning a sigh. I walked over to him, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and onto the floor. He winced. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." He said it through clenched teeth, his hands knotted into tight white fists. He pushed himself up with his arms — I suddenly realized how thin they were, much too thin to be normal — and gently placed his weight on his feet.

He groaned, his knees shaking.

"Maybe you should lie —" I started to suggest, holding onto his arms as he grasped my shoulders to keep his balance.

"Don't tell me what to do, Potter."

"Alright." I kept my eyes on him. His face was very white, and I realized that had he not lost so much weight, his feet might not even be able to support him at all.

"Come on," he commanded, shifting his arm around my shoulder and leaning heavily. He was one determined wizard, this one.

Still keeping my eyes on Draco, we walked — slowly, very slowly — to the door. I opened it, then put one arm around his back and one on his shoulder to keep him steady. Under the fabric of his shirt, I could feel Draco's shoulder blades, prominent through his skin. He was thin — too thin. How had I failed to notice his rapid weight loss?

"Where do you want to go?" I asked him, feeling awkward at the close proximity to my past archenemy, once we got out the door.

"Where are Granger and Weasel?" he puffed out.

"Down the stairs, one flight. I'll warn you, they're with Ginny." I didn't reprimand him for his use of their nicknames — he was fighting enough pain already, and though he'd been trying not to call them that for the past week and a half, he didn't have the focus necessary to say their actual names.

"Doesn't matter. Let's go."

* * *

It took the better part of twenty minutes, but we managed to get down the single flight of stairs and to the room I was sharing with Ron. It was where Hermione, Ginny, Ron and I spent most of our time nowadays.

I made sure Draco was steady before knocking on the slightly open door. I could already hear my friends' voices, all chatting with one another, though they stopped when I knocked.

Hermione opened the door, eyes looking as wild as her hair. "Har—Draco? What the — what is he doing out of bed? He shouldn't be on his feet!" She turned her anger at me.

I shrugged. "He insisted."

"Damn right I did," Draco said, looking proud. "But my feet hurt. Could I —?"

"Oh! Oh, yes, please, come in and sit down. Do—do you need help?"

Draco opened his mouth, about to refute, no doubt, but I beat him to it. "Yes. If you could get on his other side…"

Draco turned to me. "That was unnecessary," he spit out. "We got down here fine."

"I'd rather not have you standing any more than necessary. Your feet need to heal," I retorted. "As it is, you probably won't be able to go back up the stairs today."

Draco opened his mouth once again to argue, but then decided not to. "Whatever, Potter."

"You owe me one, Malfoy."

He scowled at me before sitting down on the nearest bed available.

I let him go, then turned to Ron and Ginny. Ron looked exceedingly sour. Ginny looked hesitant but relieved.

"Finally decided you were worthy enough to talk to us, Malfoy?" she asked him, playfully but smirking.

"Actually, no, I decided you were worthy enough to be in my presence." He smirked right back at her.

Ron scoffed, then turned his attention to the Exploding Snap cards in front of him.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked hesitantly, not raising her eyes to meet Draco's, as she sat down on the floor with Ginny.

"Glad you asked. You might be the only decent person in this house, Gra—Hermione. I'm alright."

This time I scoffed. He turned to me, eyes narrowed, and asked, "got any objections?"

My scoff turned into a fake cough. I swallowed my laughter. "Nope, nothing here." I turned to the three people sitting on the floor. "What were you doing?"

"Well, Ron and I were playing Exploding Snap," Ginny said, leaning back on her arms, "and Hermione was reading through the mail."

"Any fan letters for Potter, there?" Draco asked jokingly.

"Unfortunately, some. It seems someone knows you're here, Harry," Hermione allowed, shuffling through several cards on the floor in front of her, some opened and some not. "Ooh, look! This one's from Luna!" She had picked up a baby blue envelope.

Hermione ripped it open and scanned through the letter quickly. Her face drained of color as she did.

Surprisingly, Draco was the first to ask what was wrong. He had just managed to prop his feet up on the low bed and was watching Hermione.

Her hands shook as she handed it, not to me, but to Draco. He ripped the paper from her hands and scanned through just as quickly as she had.

Draco cursed. I looked over his shoulder. "Read it out loud, Draco."

Even Ron was paying rapt attention to the blond next to me as he read Luna's letter.

" _Dear Hermione, Harry, and Ron,_

 _If you haven't noticed, things in Britain are going poorly. Some wizards from the Ministry of Magic showed up to our house yesterday and demanded Daddy shut down the_ Quibbler _. I'm glad he said no, but unfortunately that resulted in his arrest. I was almost caught but managed to get out quickly._

 _I don't know where he's going to go now, but I'm certainly hoping it's not Azkaban. He shouldn't be sent there without a proper trial, anyway, with all the bad publicity the Ministry's been getting after Sirius Black._

 _Right now, I'm writing to you from Neville's house. I owled him as soon as the Ministry wizards were gone, and his grandmother graciously offered me to stay. I'm really glad I have somewhere to be right now, but I hope Daddy can get released as soon as possible. I haven't even heard from him at all._

 _I heard there was an attack at Malfoy Manor a few weeks ago. Do you know what happened? I'm hoping everyone's alright._

 _Neville says he'll write to you too, as soon as he gets more information. Have you heard from Percy and Annabeth? Say hello to them for me, if you would please._

 _Also, please tell me if you find any nargles. They've all scattered, and I can't seem to find any anymore. I don't know what caused this sudden disappearance of nargles. It's supposed to mean bad luck and terrible things coming your way._

 _I hope this letter finds you well. Say hello to Ginny! I'll talk to you soon._

 _Signed, Luna Lovegood_."

"I've never gotten a letter from Luna before. This is rather odd," Hermione said.

"I've spoken to her once or twice over the summers," Ginny replied, a frown on her face. "But this doesn't sound normal. Something's had to have gone really bad if Luna's communicating by owl."

"She did say she was at Neville's house," Ron suggested.

"Maybe he wanted her to write to us to make sure we didn't find out another way and be worried about her. But then why wouldn't he just write to us himself?" Hermione pondered, chewing her lip.

Ginny piped up again, serious. "Can I see the letter?" Draco handed it to her. She frowned. "Luna never would have written, ' _Signed, Luna Lovegood.'_ She sounds too formal in this letter. But the nargles part and her calling her father 'Daddy' makes sense."

Draco was silent. "I didn't know that the 'attack' at my house was in the _Daily Prophet_ ," he finally whispered.

Hermione turned very slowly to him. "Draco, we read every page of the _Daily Prophet_ every day. Harry even took the news to you every day. The attack _wasn't_ in the _Daily Prophet_."

He paled. "But then how did she find out? Luna says here, "' _I heard there was an attack at Malfoy Manor a few weeks ago. Do you know what happened?_ ' How did she know?"

Ginny stood up, face sickly pale. "No, no, no no no."

I walked over to her, concerned, and put my hand on her shoulder. "Ginny?"

She had a hand on her forehead as if it hurt, and her warm brown eyes were blazing under the fringe of red hair. "If this wasn't in the news, and the only people who knew about Voldemort showing up at your house, were us and the Death Eaters —"

Hermione finished her sentence, having pieced it together. "— then either Luna found out through the Death Eaters, or it wasn't Luna who wrote this letter."

Draco voiced what we were all surely thinking. "And either way, something is very wrong."

* * *

 **A/N: As I said, I might get up another chapter this week, but it depends on how motivated I am. Share your thoughts with me, they're always appreciated!**

 **Happy Thanksgiving!**


	9. Chapter 9

**POV: Harry**

 _Disclaimer: As always._

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Chapter 9

"What are you doing— _MR. MALFOY?"_

Needless to say, Mrs. Weasley was absolutely furious when she opened the door to our room and found us all there talking, and Malfoy sitting on the bed.

"RON! GINNY! YOU KNOW HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE IN BED!" Mrs. Weasley shouted angrily, her face as red as a beet.

Not wanting the situation to get any more out of control than it already was, I spoke up. "Erm, Mrs. Weasley? I brought him down here. It's not Ginny or Ron _or_ Hermione's fault. It's all mine."

Mrs. Weasley turned to me, looking confused, but before any words could slip out of her already-open mouth, Draco spoke up.

"Actually, Harry just wants all the credit. I was the one who basically forced him to help me out of the room and down the stairs," he said, trying his best to act pompous.

Mrs. Weasley turned another 90 degrees to face Draco. She looked dumbfounded and pale.

"F-Forced him?" she stuttered.

"Oh." Draco tried to keep his face from falling at the fear on Mrs. Weasley's face. "My apologies. That was a poor choice of words on my part, given my past. Not forced. He _consented_ to help me."

"I agreed to help him," I agreed quickly. Mrs. Weasley not unkind as to not help Malfoy when he was bleeding and broken a couple weeks ago, but I knew she was still fully aware of Malfoy's ancestry and affiliations with the Dark Lord, and had suspicions whether or not she'd nursed him to health.

She looked at me, eyes narrowed. "Mr. Malfoy is not yet ready to be out of bed rest, Har—"

"Quite contradictorily, Mrs. Weasley," Draco interrupted, though he was trying his best to be polite. "As much as I appreciate your help — well, more than appreciate, I guess you nursed me back from the brink of death — I simply couldn't stand lying there anymore. I had to get up and see if my feet would ever work again, and thanks to Harry here, they did."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes were much wider now, as if she couldn't believe how polite _Malfoy_ was being. Not surprising, really. But nevertheless, she took in his appearance, the now-healthier glow of his skin, and closed her mouth. "Very well then. Could I please take a look at your bandages before you get up again?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I suppose so."

She very quickly peeked through his bandages to make sure none of them had bled through, then asked, "And your feet? How are those holding up?"

Draco winced. "A bit better, but I'm sure most of the soles are still gone."

"Yes, well, it was very Dark magic used to… do that to you. They will most definitely take a long time to be the same, but I've been giving you a potion that will regrow your missing flesh." She waved her wand over him wordlessly. "You should be good for the next couple of hours. Just please try to advise me before you try walking again."

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," I said. She turned to leave the room, calling for Ginny to come with her. I watched as a now-irritated, grumpy Ginny stood up with a groan and stomped out down the stairs.

"Wait, Mrs. Weasley," Draco called out.

"Yes, dear?" She said it without any hesitation, as though he'd been merged into the family somehow.

"Thank you." It was almost a whisper.

"It was no problem." She said this rather stiffly." I couldn't just leave you out there." And with that, she turned back around and went back downstairs to the kitchen, leaving the rickety old door to the bedroom open.

Once she'd gone, Ron was the first to speak up. "Hey, Harry, don't you reckon that Annabeth and Percy might want to know Malfoy's up and better?" I supposed he'd never stop calling him Malfoy.

"You're so right, Ron! How did we forget about them already?" Hermione asked, slightly alarmed.

"Well, I'm pretty sure it was because we were too busy discussing Luna and how she may be dead or captive?" Draco drawled. "That might've taken our minds off them."

"Oh, shush, Draco," she scolded. "We've got to call them, now." She pulled out a golden coin, one I almost mistook for a galleon, and flipped it into midair after calling on some Greek goddess. Thank goodness Ginny had left the room.

The fountain of water that Hermione created with her wand quickly developed into an image, but not one we were expecting. There was Dumbledore, standing in front of an excited-looking Percy. Annabeth was near them, and she was the first to notice us. "Hermione? _Draco!_ You're up and about!"

"Hello, Annabeth," Draco said. "I wouldn't exactly word it as _up and about_ quite yet, though. How are you and… why is —"

Hermione finished his question. "— Professor Dumbledore? Why are you there? At Percy and Annabeth's camp?"

Considering the fact that he sent me a letter with almost nothing informative recently, I was burning to know how exactly Dumbledore planned to defeat Voldemort and didn't really care about why he was at Camp Half-Blood.

"Well, I thought it best they learn some skills they skipped out of last year. They should, after all, know how to apparate for their seventh year." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"I absolutely forgot about that! No, that makes a lot of sense," Hermione said thoughtfully. "How's it going?"

"Well, Annabeth's got it down for sure, and I think I'm pretty close —" Percy said, looking nervous.

"Great!" Ron exclaimed. "And you're coming back in a week, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Annabeth answered. "We'll be going straight to the Burrow on Sunday. Needless to say the campers are really confused about our 'quest'." She made quotations in the air as she said it. "But they'll be fine."

"Professor Dumbledore," I interrupted, desperate for some answers, but he looked at me.

"Harry, I promised you answers when I return, and answers you will receive. Not now, though. I'd like to know how Mr. Malfoy is doing, especially upon the condition of his… er, feet."

Draco looked flustered, and he didn't look Dumbledore in the eye when he spoke. "They're better, sir, much better thanks to Mrs. Weasley —"

Hermione interrupted him animatedly. "He got up and walked a bit today! With the help of Harry."

"Well in any case, I am glad Mr. Malfoy is feeling better. And I'll be bringing the demigods back on Sunday, yes. Now, if the four of you don't mind, we must attend to our apparition lessons once more." Dumbledore smiled as we bid them farewell, excited to see them next Sunday and promising we'd have a longer talk together to catch each other up. Annabeth reached out and sliced her hand through the water, and Hermione's spell faded as the water fell to the floor.

* * *

"Harry, what are you thinking about? You've got an odd look on your face." Hermione was looking at me concernedly, brown eyebrows furrowed across her forehead.

"Yeah, Potter. She's right, you've been staring off into space with a frown for half an hour," agreed Draco, who hadn't even glanced in my direction. He was currently reading his summer homework material. "Out with it."

I cast him an icy glare. "It's nothing. I was just thinking about something from the trial."

"What, Sirius's?" Ron asked, bringing his head up and tearing his eyes off of the Quidditch field map with plays written all over it. Ginny continued to scribble on the paper, writing positions and names of players.

"Yeah. I was kinda replaying it in my head and I guess there's something weird I remembered, but it's not really important."

"Harry, the smallest, most insignificant-seeming little details can be of great importance at a time like this," Ginny said darkly.

"Ginny's right, Harry. Tell us."

"Well, I just keep coming back to Peter Pettigrew. Mrs. Bones said he was found in an empty house, muggle I think, without his wand, a few days before the trial, and they used Veritaserum to confirm it was the real Pettigrew. She said there was no evidence of how he got there, but I read the _Prophet_ and it sounds like one of the muggle neighborhoods You-Know-Who was going through and destroying. Isn't it weird that the Ministry people who found Pettigrew used Veritaserum to find out his identity but not interrogate him on how he got there?"

"It may be against several laws of the Ministry to interrogate him on sight," Hermione pointed out.

"Sure, Hermione," Ron said, "but Harry's got a point. The man's a known criminal. Why _wouldn't_ the Ministry interrogate him?"

"The whole thing seems pretty fishy, doesn't it?" I asked. "Finding Pettigrew just like that —" I snapped my fingers to prove my point "— and in a muggle house, wandless? _And_ right before Sirius's trial? Seems a bit too coincidental, doesn't it?"

I looked over at Draco, whose face was so white you'd think he'd seen a ghost. "Draco?"

"This isn't right. Wandless? Easy to find?" Draco shook his head darkly, turning his eyes to look straight into mine. "It wasn't a mistake that Voldemort left his own servant out that vulnerable. What if he wanted the Ministry to find Pettigrew?"

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so really, I have no excuse. I had writer's block, and after writing half of this chapter I was so stuck and was stuck there for a really really long time. I'm super super sorry about how terrible I've become about updates, but I can't promise to be reliable in the future only to let you down again. Not to mention that I left the last chapter on a pretty interesting cliffhanger and then left this story for what, half a year? (Sorry.)**

 **That having been said, it'd be SUPER SUPER helpful for y'all to give me ideas on where you want the story to go. For now, I'll tell you a few secret hints: more Dramione is to develop, everyone's going back to Hogwarts, and… hmm… some Dark Lord Fighting perhaps? Ah, well, I guess I'm still not too good at planning out my fics, right?**

 **Anyway, the story would progress much faster if I had ideas from all you lovely readers, so would ya take a minute and please help me out? Anything _besides_ HoO is helpful!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hi, I'm… back? (See A/N at the end.)**

 **POV: Percy**

 _Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own anything and neither do you._

* * *

Chapter 10

As soon as Annabeth had cut through the mist and we lost the connection to the wizards, I looked back at Dumbledore. Time to test if my hypothesis was true.

"Now, Annabeth, remember that you won't be Apparating, it should be more of like a Side-Apparition for you. Just hold on to Percy's hand but don't attempt to Apparate." She nodded, taking hold of my hand. Dumbledore stopped talking and simply nodded at me.

I closed my eyes, envisioning the exact spot I wanted to go, envisioning that when I turned on the spot, I'd be gone into nothing, and then I'd reappear there, right next to Dumbledore.

I turned.

There was a sucking sound, and suddenly I felt like I was being pushed through a very small rubber tube — was this, I thought absentmindedly, how Santa felt like when he went through those super small chimneys in _The Santa Clause?_ — and the breath was gone from me and I was being pushed onwards, but through all of it, I held onto Annabeth's hand like the anchor it was —

And very suddenly, we were both out of the rubber tube, and I opened my eyes. To my left was Dumbledore. To my right was Annabeth. In front of me, two feet ahead, was the spot the two of us had just vacated.

Dumbledore glanced at me, his blue eyes sparkling as he smiled under that age-old beard. "Very good, Percy. Very good."

* * *

The next Sunday, Annabeth and I were up before dawn, and it was then I decided four in the morning was far too early. But as much as I wanted to stay at Camp Half-Blood, my home, for a little while longer, we needed to go back to Britain to buy our school supplies in time for the next Hogwarts school year. Plus, only two days from now was Harry's birthday, and we didn't want to miss it. Annabeth, it seemed to me, was intent on planning something special (and by special, I mean e-special-ly embarrassing).

Seeing as to how we'd be gone for almost another entire year, Chiron had made sure that we gave a small speech to console the rest of the camp, who were constantly wondering where these two war heroes were going for so long. Clarisse had glared, Travis and Connor had guffawed, the kids who were new looked on in awe, and eventually I got really tired of the whole ordeal. That was why we'd decided to wake up so early — if we wanted to avoid the masses coming to say goodbye, we'd have to leave before they woke up.

Professor Dumbledore was waiting atop the hill right on the border of Camp Half-Blood, the same one from which we'd taken the Portkey last year. This year, we'd be Apparating, and Dumbledore suggested I Apparate myself (and, well, Annabeth, after our recent discovery that it was impossible for me to Apparate without her). If I ended up in the wrong place, Dumbledore'd be with us, because he'd decided it was a good idea for me to Apparate not just me, but two other people on the side.

I took one last look at my home, with its endless strawberry fields where Annabeth and I had been at peace, before the whole wizarding war came into our lives, the Big House painted blue against the orange and pink sky, the dozens of cabins, the mess hall. Everything.

Inside, I felt part of me break, knowing that I wouldn't be here again for a long time.

Then I closed my eyes, envisioning Harry, and Ron and Hermione, and Draco.

I turned into thin air. After three long days full of Apparition practice, far from the eyes of other campers, the squeezing sensation was natural, welcome. After what seemed like a much, much longer time than normal (likely because we were travelling such a long distance), Annabeth, Dumbledore and I came out of the tube.

And landed in the middle of a table, which, unfortunately, was covered in breakfast foods. And surrounded by people, many, if not most of them redheads.

By some strange means, Annabeth and Dumbledore had managed to avoid crashing straight into the Weasley's breakfast — maybe they'd let go of a split second sooner — but here I was, having splashed oatmeal, milk and cereal everywhere.

Fred and George were the first to get up. " _Excellent_ entrance, mate!" said one.

"Why haven't we tried that yet, Freddie?" asked George.

"I haven't got a clue, Georgie. Shall we do it?" asked Fred, holding his arm out to his twin.

George laced his arm through Fred's. "Of course, my dear brother."

Before Mrs. Weasley could say anything, the two of them popped out of existence with the loud _crack_ that meant a lot of space had just been vacated and immediately filled with air.

I desperately hoped they hadn't crashed into somebody else's breakfast table.

My cheeks flaming, I got off the table, only to be greeted enthusiastically by Ron and Harry and Hermione, and then perhaps even Draco, as I pointed my wand at myself and muttered, " _Scourgify."_ Most of the oatmeal, cereal and milk vanished. Dumbledore, a smile in his eyes, had already repaired the Weasley's messed up dining table.

Annabeth just looked at me knowingly, her grey eyes hiding laughter. _Hey, now, not my fault,_ I said with my eyebrows.

She raised hers. _Oh, actually entirely your fault._ She giggled.

"Percy! Annabeth! How are you?" exclaimed a girl with bushy brown hair, her dark face glowing with a smile.

"Hermione!" responded Annabeth with just as much enthusiasm before going to hug her friend. Then she hugged Ginny. "I'm doing great, and you? Have O.W.L. results come yet?"

"Actually, now that you mention, I think they're due this morning." Hermione suddenly blanched. "Oh, no, what if—"

"What if what, Hermione?" cut in Draco, who had not gotten up yet from his chair. "What if you missed question one-hundred-and-eleven, part c on the Charms test?" He snorted.

"I seriously doubt it," said Harry, flashing a grin at his friend. "They don't call you the brightest witch of our age for nothing."

"Oi! I think I deserve that title!" Draco said, pointing his chin up and looking at us all down his nose. It was a rather ridiculous sight, as he had to look up, for we were all standing and he was still in his chair.

"Well, for one, Malfoy, you're not a witch," pointed out Ginny, laughing.

"And two, you're not that smart," guffawed Ron.

"No, actually, he's one of the top in our year," said Hermione, then added in a rather snotty voice, "You two, and Harry, just likely didn't notice because you were too busy hating him."

Ron's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head.

I looked over to the corner, where Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore were talking in hushed whispers. Soon, Mrs. Weasley yielded a small grin, reassured Dumbledore, and saw him off.

"Percy, Annabeth," he said, "it's about time I return to Hogwarts and speak to our new professor. But please, owl me if there's any need."

"Of course, professor." Annabeth smiled.

"Wait, Professor Dumbledore!" Harry said hurriedly, walking over as soon as he realized Dumbledore was about to be leaving.

The old professor looked at him patiently. "Yes, Harry?" his voice was calm.

"Er, I was wondering if you, er, were ever going to talk to me about—"

"About what I sent Dobby to tell you," Dumbledore finished. Harry nodded sheepishly. "All things in due time, Harry, all things in due time. Don't think I've forgotten; it is simply not the time yet."

Harry nodded again. Dumbledore smiled, straightened, and without another word, Disapparated from the Burrow.

* * *

Later, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Draco, Ginny, Annabeth and I all decided we should cram into the boys' bedroom, seeing as to how it was perhaps the largest bedroom in the Burrow, not that it was easily accessible.

The last part was an issue, as it meant Draco had to climb many flights of stairs with what Annabeth and I learned was left of his feet. Mrs. Weasley had mumbled under her breath that they weren't fully healed yet ( _heeled yet_ , I said under my breath, only to receive nasty looks from both Hermione and Annabeth. At least Ron and Ginny laughed silently) and that "young Mister Malfoy" had no business climbing so many stairs.

Thus we compromised and instead crammed into the living room. With Fred and George gone ("at their joke shop, we've got to visit soon," Ron informed us) and Mr. Weasley at work, the Burrow was slightly less empty. I supposed Annabeth and me arriving hadn't really helped the situation.

Draco sat on a couch and propped his two feet up on a stack of very worn, very old pillows. At first, I was nervous that Ginny was still in the room — she didn't know the truth about us, now did she? — and then Annabeth consoled me. Apparently, Hermione had told Ginny quite soon after she'd found out the truth about Annabeth and Rachel and me. Ginny might be the youngest, but apparently she could hold a secret quite well.

We spent the better part of the morning catching up; now the _Daily Prophet_ was on Harry and Dumbledore's side, saying Voldemort had been back all along and actually, why had they lied, well really it was so the people wouldn't be scared.

 _Hmmph,_ I thought to myself, _sure._

While we talked, Merlin came down into the room and stately plopped himself on Annabeth's hair. She smiled, and stroked his feathers till her arm grew tired and dropped back to her side. Merlin nested in her blonde curls and soon was just a ball of black feathers sleeping atop her head.

Harry and Ron looked quite suspicious when Ginny hadn't left and Annabeth freely began talking about our world. That was, until Ginny got tired of them eyeing her and piped up, "Oh, quit it, you two. I've known about Percy and Annabeth since before you did."

Harry and Ron took a moment to look surprised, and then turned their glare to Hermione. Or Annabeth. I couldn't tell which.

The lively, carefree mood that pervaded the air was lost when Annabeth persuaded Draco to tell us about what happened at his house, why he was here. He sullenly told the story, leaving out bits and pieces that I supposed were far too painful. And he never said Voldemort's name. Not once.

I supposed maybe Draco's wounds would heal, but the scars inside would last a lifetime.

Now, he'd left his family behind, and said nothing of them except that he supposed they'd likely been killed for his disobedience to the Dark Lord. Tears pricked his eyes.

Then, Harry mentioned how they'd received a letter supposedly written by Luna, but that it seemed off and something wasn't quite right. Namely, how Luna had known about the attack at Malfoy Manor.

Annabeth and I exchanged glances. Nothing could be good about that situation.

The only break of light in the darkness that had taken over our morning was when four letters arrived, bearing news of Harry, Ron, Draco and Hermione's O.W.L. exams.

"How'd you do?" Annabeth asked excitedly, surely remembering our own O.W.L.s, taken in Dumbledore's office on the first day of school. What a fond memory. I remembered my own; three Os in DADA, Transfiguration, and Potions. Only three, compared to Annabeth's seven. And total, I'd gotten seven O.W.L.s, and Annabeth nine.

"I've got seven," said Harry. "Only one O, but seven O.W.L.s is way more than I expected!"

"Blimey, mate! I've got a ton of Es, no O, but that's alright…" Ron was very enthusiastic.

"Hermione?" Annabeth asked gently. The girl was looking at her paper with a shocked, pale face, her jaw slack and mouth open.

Draco was the one who leaned over her. "Well, I'm not surprised," he said, even though his eyebrows shot up. "All Os, except for one E in Defense." His eyes scanned her paper. "Hell, Hermione, how many classes did you _take?_ "

Hermione blushed. "A lot."

Harry scoffed. "You should've seen her third year, I thought she was going to die of sleep deprivation…"

Annabeth interrupted him, looking expectantly at Draco. "And you, how'd you do, supposedly 'brightest-wizard-of-his-age'?" Draco folded up his paper secretly, but Annabeth snatched it out of his hands. "Aha!" Her eyes, widened comically. "Oh, well. How many classes did _you_ take, Draco?" Her lips quirked up in a smile. "An O in everything except Herbology and History of Magic."

"Less than Gra—Hermione." His ears turned pink. Harry, Ginny, and Ron's mouths all fell open.

* * *

The rest of the day, unfortunately, was spent helping Mrs. Weasley clean up the kitchen, garden, and all the rooms (Draco was the only one who did nothing at Mrs. Weasley's insistence). Soon before lunch, Mr. Weasley showed up, overworked and extremely tired from his late shift at the Ministry. He ate with all of us at lunch and then quickly fell asleep on the sofa in the living room.

By late afternoon, the garden had been de-gnomed, all the beds made, the floors and stairs swept, the cabinets and furniture dusted, and Mrs. Weasley was quite pleased. Annabeth and I had spent quite a while cleaning, Annabeth using her wand since she was already seventeen (I was bitterly doing it by hand, regretting that my birthday was in two weeks).

After it was all sparkling like new, Mrs. Weasley gave us a break and we all trooped outside to the broom shed. Ginny, Harry, and Ron grabbed brooms, and looked at me with concern. Yes, the last time I'd been on a broom I'd been shocked out of the sky. Annabeth looked at me with worry, but I shook her off.

"I'll stay close to the ground, Wise Girl. Don't worry." She worried, and eventually sent Merlin up to stay close to me while I zipped around on the broom, low to the ground. Being up in the air again was quite terrifying, but exhilarating. With Merlin flapping along next to me, I could be slightly convinced that Zeus wasn't going to try to kill me again. For the first time in a while, I let my shoulders, legs, and being relax, and soared above the green ground, thinking that, if only for a second, everything was quite all right.

* * *

 **A/N: So this was a filler chapter. Not too informative but actually necessary. The next chapter will have more interesting stuff.**

 **Okay, I know it's been a while, but I've finally figured out a strategy for writing and now I think I might update** _ **slightly**_ **more regularly. Say, every one to two weeks. Reviews, as always, are very much appreciated. You know where the button is.**

 **Last note: If you like Drarry, I wrote a two-shot called** _ **Broken**_ **that you should check out.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I've figured out a lot of the plot, actually, and I'm super excited for it to play out. And you? Are you ready to rumble?**

 **By the way, a very happy 37th birthday to our dear Mr. Harry Potter.**

 **POV: Hermione**

 _Disclaimer: I don't seek to make money off of Rowling or Riordan, unlike some people. *stares pointedly at absolutely nothing*_

* * *

 ****Chapter 11

As we watched Percy, Harry and the Weasleys diving in and out of the sky, Draco shifted uneasily next to me, holding on to the wall for support. Seeing his struggle, I suggested, "Here, let's sit down," before he could ask. He shot me a grateful look.

"We're going inside, Annabeth," I told the older girl, but she was too busy warily watching Percy as he zoomed quickly through the sky on a broom with Ron, Harry, and Ginny to do anything but give a simple nod.

I got near enough for Draco to lean on my shoulder, but didn't touch his side. Despite how friendly he'd become, how much he'd changed in the past couple of weeks, the memory of how I'd started to trust him after Christmas only to be stabbed in the back with those words - filthy mudblood, he'd said, a snarl on his face - kept filling my mind. I wanted to forgive him, I truly did - my reputation as Hermione Granger was nothing if not kind and understanding - but the hate on his face that day the DA had been found by Umbridge still shook me to the bones.

He leaned on me, though, arm on my shoulders, and I let him, and he didn't say anything but gave me another nod of gratitude. Once we were in the house, we sat back down on the couch in the Weasley's living room, for the first time in the day undisturbed. I picked up a book I'd left unfinished on the table and opened to the marked page.

He had sensed the tenseness in my shoulders, seen the hardness on my face, for the next thing he said was not one I expected. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

The way he said it. There was so much sorrow and pain in it. No hesitation when he said my name; no "Grang-" before the "Hermione". Just Hermione.

I put my book back down, and tried to say with all the sincerity I could muster, "What for, Draco?"

"For being such an arse to you, when you treated me with such respect and like a normal person even after I called you names for four years. Come to think of it, I'm sorry for that too." He'd hung his head in his hands.

"Draco, it's-"

"No, it's not fine!" I moved to the couch where he was sitting upon hearing how distraught he was. "I was a terrible... I was taught to be that way. I'm so sorry."

Hesitating at first, then making up my mind, I placed my hand on his and squeezed. He moved his eyes up and glanced into my own, giving me a thankful look.

"Draco. Shh, it's okay. Lucky for you, I'm a very forgiving witch," I said haughtily, hiding my smile.

He cocked a fine, pale eyebrow playfully. "Oh, is that so?"

"Don't go expecting forgiveness for everything, though," I spat back sternly, but a smile tugged my lips. "But for this one thing, yes. I, Hermione Granger, forgive you for calling me bad names in the past."

His smile faded, replaced by furrowed eyebrows and eyes that wouldn't meet mine.

"I really am sorry, Hermione."

I squeezed his hand again. "I know."

He looked up, finally meeting my gaze, and I realized just how close we'd gotten just talking. He cupped my chin, and, very very slowly, put his lips to mine. I didn't move quickly like I had at Christmas; no, this time, I made sure he wasn't going to walk away when I slowly kissed him back.

And snapped apart when the door opened to reveal a long-haired redhead.

"Guys, we were just-OI? WHAT'D'YOU THINK YOU'RE-arghhhhh!"

It was Ginny, all right. She was covering her eyes with her hands now, as if she needed to protect herself from us.

I watched, dumbfounded for one, as Ginny cracked open two fingers and peered through. "Is it safe to look?" she asked, sounding wounded. "No more snogging?"

At last I loosed a breath, feeling Draco do the same next to me. "No, Ginny, you can look."

Slowly, she lowered her hands from her face, and gave us an odd look. "Well, it's about time! Not that you should mention this to Ron." We both stared at her, jaws hanging. "Oh, come off it, you two! Locked up in the same house nearly all summer - not saying our house is small, but still - constantly looking at each other when you think no one's watching, and should I even -mention the -flirting?"

"What flirting?" Draco demanded instantly, his ears telling the truth about how embarrassed he was.

Ginny scoffed, then turned out of the room. "You're welcome for having no intention of mentioning this to Ron!" she called behind her as she hurried back outside.

Draco and I glanced quickly at each other and relaxed. I turned away from his gaze, feeling my cheeks and ears fill with blood. At the touch of a hand gently pushing my hair behind my ear, I tentatively looked back up.

He was the first to break the silence. "Do you-do you think this will... I don't know, go anywhere?"

I pursed my lips. If it did, we'd eventually have to tell everyone, and, well, I definitely wasn't ready for that yet. "What about Pansy?" I asked evasively.

"What about her?" Draco's hand left my ear.

"Well, weren't you two...?"

Before I could even finish the question, Draco had let out a laugh. Riled, I was about to ask -what, exactly, was so funny when he spoke.

"Oh, don't worry. As good a friend as Pansy can be most of the time, she-she doesn't swing that way."

If my cheeks had been pink, they were now bright red. "Oh," I stuttered. "O-oh."

There was a scream from the kitchen. Draco didn't even spare me another glance before leaping up, wand already in hand, and running (actually, it was more of a waddle, the most he could manage on his broken feet) to the kitchen, with me right on his heels.

Mrs. Weasley was fanning her face, looking red, Ginny appeared to be holding back laughter, and Ron, who'd just run into the kitchen, was utterly dreamy-eyed, his expression far off.

"Really, Fleur, you shouldn't have popped in so suddenly," Mrs. Weasley was saying, still fanning herself, and I realized what the commotion was all about.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, now giving both Ginny and Ron fluttery kisses on both cheeks, was Fleur Delacour. Or, as Ginny had taken a liking to call her, Phlegm.

"I am zo zorry, Meez Weezley! I just thought I'd pop een and say 'ello! I 'ope eet eez no trouble, I'll only stay for a leetle time," said the part-Veela, looking around the kitchen with her long blonde hair flowing around her.

Draco, too, I noticed quickly, was dumbstruck. Not nearly as dreamy as Ron, but still enough to make me wish I could whack some sense into him.

"And who eez this?" Fleur asked, looking at Draco. "Part veela too?"

At this, Draco finally snapped out of it. "No, actually, but - pardon my assumption - part French, as you are?" She nodded, fluttering her eyelashes. Draco blinked, then held out a hand. "Draco Malfoy."

She grabbed it in a way that made it clear she expected to kiss her own hand, then said, delicately, "Fleur Delacour."

To my utter surprise, he bent down and very briefly pressed his lips to her hand, then left go. "Right! You were the Beauxbatons champion in the Triwizard tournament a few years back, right?"

Fleur nodded again. "Yes. Speeking of weech, where's 'Arry?"

Just then, Harry, Percy and Annabeth came in, holding two broomsticks and a book respectively. Upon seeing Harry, Fleur rushed over to him. "'Arry, eet 'as been too long!" She kissed him on both cheeks as well.

"Fleur," said Harry, breathless and flabbergasted. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, deed zey not tell you?" Fleur looked between Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Ron, the former two of which were avoiding each other's eyes and the latter of which was still staring ahead dreamily.

Fleur turned back to Harry. "Bill and I are to be married!"

"Oh?" Harry said, looking like he had no other words. "That's-lovely. Lovely." He gave me a strange look.

Fleur finally caught sight of the two demigods. "Oh, and who are you?" she asked, rushing over to them too.

"Percy Jackson," said Percy. He looked absolutely unaffected by the Veela glamour, holding Annabeth's waist lightly. Interesting, perhaps something to study later, I thought to myself.

"Annabeth Chase." Annabeth gruffly shook Fleur's hand.

Looking disappointed that she wasn't getting a kiss on the hand from Percy, the part Veela said, "Well, I 'ope you all come to our wedding!" She turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Bill thought I should drop by for a couple of 'ours. Eef eet eesn't any trouble."

"None at all," Mrs. Weasley muttered. Fleur looked delighted.

* * *

 **A/N: So this chapter was originally going to include a lot more, but I decided to cut it in half because it was getting quite long. The second half will be up within the week! If it doesn't take too much effort, I'd appreciate a review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**POV: Harry**

 _Disclaimer: This, I think, is quite getting old._

* * *

Chapter 12

A few hours, by Fleur's definition, extended to much later. By two o'clock of that afternoon, I didn't know whether to try and smack the dreamy look off of Ron's face or try and prevent my own ribs from cracking from laughter whenever I looked at him. Not that I hadn't realized that the Veela allure that Fleur had was also alluring to me. It just didn't addle my brain nearly so much as Ron's. Hermione was already knee-deep in a book about how the Veela allure actually worked, and constantly murmuring to either herself or Annabeth about how come it could still be so powerful when Fleur was only maybe a fourth Veela. Unlike Annabeth, however, Hermione kept to her books and stayed away from Fleur, already tired of her, while Annabeth approached her and questioned her about Veela properties.

I left them to it. After a couple hours, I suppose the boredom my brain was experiencing outweighed the effect of Fleur's allure. She was not just helpful, but _overly_ helpful, and though I had already decided I didn't not like her, it was going to take a little more interesting conversation to actually make me fond of the French witch. And _gods above_ was she vain.

Instead, I decided to keep to Percy (who still was _totally_ immune to Fleur somehow) and Ron and drag them both out of the Burrow for Quidditch. Ginny joined us as well, making retching noises whenever Fleur was out of earshot.

"Can you believe it? Bill, marrying _her?_ I mean, what can she possibly see in him?" she commented sourly, pulling on a gray jumper to go play Quidditch in the rain that had again started up. Percy looked at her sympathetically, and patted her arm cheerfully.

"Whatever he does see in her, I bet it's past her beauty and Veela-ness."

Ginny huffed, "Sure. I'll believe it when I put a Bat-Bogey Hex on her and see how Bill reacts." Despite that, she seemed to calm down. Interestingly enough, it was increasingly Percy who was comforting her. Ron ignored Ginny, muttering under his breath that she was only jealous. Ginny hit him upside the head for that, and I tried not to laugh even though he deserved it. We proceeded to get soaked in the pouring rain, until Mrs. Weasley demanded we come in because "you never know who's watching!"

Not being overly observant (as always), I didn't actually notice how much time Draco and Hermione had been spending together until Percy offhandedly mentioned it. While Draco would occasionally engage Fleur in a French conversation (which, to the surprise of absolutely _everyone_ excepting perhaps Hermione, he was quite fluent in), he didn't seem to show any interest in her at all. At first, I thought it seemed suspicious, but then I realized I had too much to actually think about to be considering Hermione and Draco together in a relationship. Things that were possibly more important — for example, Voldemort. And the army he was supposedly building.

As the end of the day neared, my thoughts centering Voldemort and Death Eaters only became tirelessly more terrifying. In fact, I had been so focused on Voldemort for the better part of the past week, the last one of July, that it wasn't till Hermione, while talking to me and avoiding Fleur, reminded me that my birthday was in two days that I remembered it.

But soon enough, it was six in the evening and Fleur had gone, and we were left with a more comfortable, lacking-Veela Burrow and an overwhelmingly eager-to-learn Annabeth, who had learned so much about Veela that she was considering writing and publishing a paper about their amazing properties and powers. Percy, thankfully, dissuaded her. All exhausted, we ate dinner and spent a while reading the _Prophet_ in Ron's room (Percy had decided to room with Draco for the rest of the holidays and Annabeth with the girls) before heading to bed.

The stress in the air was palpable, especially after Mr. Weasley came home and we all watched as he and Mrs. Weasley exchanged names and secret facts. Later, while we all sat upstairs, Hermione spoke up about it, to explain to Percy and Annabeth. "It's the Ministry's new protection system for the Burrow to make sure everyone entering and leaving the grounds is safe. At least while Harry is here."

My stomach rolled over in a sickening way, and I wished for nothing more than to be less of a burden on my friends. Draco eyed me, a knowing look in his eyes. If nothing, the pureblood's raising had taught him to be perceptive — sometimes it felt as though he could hear my every thought, understand my every feeling. I went to bed with my stomach and throat each in a knot, and my nightmares didn't help in the least.

* * *

The next morning, one day before my birthday, I woke early and tiptoed into the kitchen, not expecting anyone there at such an early hour when the sun was just rising. Instead, I found Tonks and Sirius arguing heatedly, Mrs. Weasley standing beside them with her hands on her hips. Tonks, her hair a flustered orange instead of its usual bubblegum pink, was forcefully whispering, "The Ministry's in quite the uproar, Sirius! It would really be better to not go through with something like this at such a time!"

"Is it even necessary for me to bring up Remus?" Sirius shot back, his tone a tad calmer.

"Don't you _dare_ bring him up, just because you had a complicated past with him does _not_ entitle you to —"

Mrs. Weasley interrupted, her tone one of frustration. "Tonks, please! I would very much appreciate that you don't start any fi—"

But she was cut off by Sirius, who let out a bark-like sound. "I'm not saying I'm _entitled_ to anything, much less Remus! But who the _hell_ are you to bring up _my_ problems when you've got plenty of your own?"

"The Ministry —"

Sirius cut her off again, this time with a rather nasty curse word.

"Sirius Black! There will be absolutely _no_ tolerance for such language in my house!" Mrs. Weasley, her face red as her hair, silenced them both as though they were also her children. Then, her voice dropping back down to not wake anyone, she proposed, "I suggest you both take time apart and come together to talk when the both of you are less riled! Now, if you would kindly either be quiet or excuse yourselves from my kitchen. There are several people sleeping."

"Give Harry my regards. And my sincerest apologies for my language and conduct, Molly." Sirius turned to Tonks. "We'll discuss this later." Without another word, he walked out the door. A crack followed him soon after.

Tonks turned to Mrs. Weasley, and after apologizing to her, dismissed herself as well. Hoping not to attract Mrs. Weasley's attention, I turned and quickly and silently skipped up the steps to Draco's room. Ron was hopeless, probably still snoring, but it was likely Draco was up, and I needed to say something to someone.

Not only was he up and trying (pitifully) to walk around the room, but Hermione was also sitting on the floor of the bedroom, quietly scratching notes in an old book. Neither of them made a sound, and I soon realized why: Percy was still sleeping, though not snoring, in the Gryffindor-garbed bed across the room. But their lips were, indeed, moving. I realized Hermione must have cast a _Muffliato._

As soon as Hermione saw me opening the door after knocking, she quickly stood up, quickly waved her wand to dissolve the _Muffliato_. Her face was flustered. "Um… Harry? What is it?"

At the same time, Draco said, "What are you doing up and walking at this ungodly hour?"

I raised an eyebrow at them. "I could ask the same." I meaningfully directed my gaze between the two of them. Hermione blushed even deeper. In the semi-darkness of the room, I could see Draco's ears becoming pink like the sky outside. "Anyway, I figure it's not my business to ask what's going on here, but I am rather glad I didn't walk in on a worse scenario."

The two of them made rather strangled noises, but I cut them off. "Nevermind that. I just went downstairs. Tonks and Sirius were talking…" I explained what I had heard, whispering, as Hermione cast another _Muffliato_ towards Percy's general direction.

They both listened intently, and after I was done, Hermione immediately spoke up. "I wonder what it could have been that Sirius wanted to do that Tonks didn't want him to follow through."

My stomach twisted, as it often did nowadays. I had a rather painful idea of what it could be, and I didn't want to think about it. Draco looked at me, but said nothing as he sat down again on his bed, wincing and sighing as the pressure was taken off his feet. "Well, I'm surprised by what you said Sirius said about Lupin," Hermione added.

"Really? I'm not," Draco said. "It's obvious they had a strong relationship in the past, maybe even as lovers. What's so surprising about that?"

Hermione started. "N-nothing," she stammered. She changed the subject back to Tonks and the Ministry, and how uptight it seemed these days. I, meanwhile, tried not to stare at Draco. That he could have deduced something so complicated so easily and claimed it to be a simple matter caused me to mentally stagger. Then again, he didn't have as strong a relationship with either Remus or Sirius that I had. It might have been easier to see through them when standing at a distance.

"I think I'm going to rest a little while longer. Feel free to… get back to whatever you were talking about before." I walked over to the door.

Hermione blushed. Draco smirked and said, "O.W.L.s, and upcoming N.E.W.T.s, what else could we have been discussing?"

"Nothing, I suppose, for two nerds like you," I slyly said, shutting the door behind me.

* * *

July thirty-first, my sixteenth birthday, came and passed quicker than I expected it to. Nothing much happened during the day, save Mrs. Weasley and my friends all bombarding me with gifts. Somewhere in the middle of the day, it suddenly hit me that I was only one year away from adulthood. I'd be taking Apparition classes this year, besides N.E.W.T.-level classes and being Gryffindor's Quidditch captain.

And on top of it all, Dumbledore's letter. Luna's letter. And, obviously, Voldemort, the threat of whom loomed closer than ever. My scar never stopped prickling.

Despite all of the things on my plate, I managed to have a wonderful 16th birthday. Annabeth and Hermione had planted red and gold streamers _everywhere_ , and at nine forty-five everything simultaneously exploded to reveal said streamers.

Draco commented that it was a tad too _Gryffindor_ for his taste, but nevertheless quietly wished me a happy birthday.

For dinner, Mrs. Weasley had invited over Lupin, Tonks, Sirius, and even Hagrid. Hagrid gave me a moleskin bag which opened for none but me. Sirius, Tonks and Lupin wished me all a happy sixteenth.

I wasn't sure I could really look at the three of them the same way again after what I'd learned this morning, but I tried not to show it on my face. Tonks and Sirius greeted and interacted each other rather stiffly throughout the course of the evening. Whatever they'd been discussing had clearly struck a cord for them both. We ate a feast suited for the Great Hall of Hogwarts, and I appreciated Mrs. Weasley all the more for making me feel at home for my birthday. That, I decided, had been the best gift of all. I thanked her over and over again, telling her that she shouldn't have gone to such troubles for me (on top of what she'd already done for me). Mrs. Weasley looked delighted, and tiredly said it was no trouble at all.

Unfortunately, come nine forty-five at night, Mrs. Weasley was just about to cut the snitch-shaped cake she'd prepared when it exploded, and red and gold streamers burst forth. Everyone ended up with cake on their face, laughing, and Hermione and Annabeth profusely apologized to Mrs. Weasley for ruining the cake, saying that their charm must have had some imperfection. After the guests left, we went to bed, and I felt safer and calmer than I had all week.

But all good things come to an end, don't they?

* * *

 **A/N: I must profusely apologize for the lack of stuff in this chapter, but I saw it was getting long and** _ **again**_ **cut it off. I also want to apologize for being gone for quite a long time again, but it shouldn't be so long next time as I have the next chapter half-written. Cheers!**


	13. Chapter 13

**POV: Percy**

 _Disclaimer: All I own is a Slytherin scarf with a tag that says "Warner Bros. Studios"._

* * *

Chapter 13

About a week after Harry's birthday had passed, I was awoken by an impatient Annabeth around eight o' clock in the morning. "Get up, sleepyhead! C'mon, we're going to Diagon Alley today, and Mrs. Weasley wants to go and be back before dark so that we avoid any risky business!"

I opened my eyes to see the (half) goddess above me, her fair pointed eyebrows procuring a look of clear indignation. I rubbed my eyes. Annabeth's hair was in its usual messy bun, blonde curls spraying everywhere, only this time it seemed to be held up by nothing but her wand. Thankfully, Merlin was not sitting on her head this time.

"Alright, I'm up, I'm up!" I yawned, slowly raising myself off the bed and realizing we were the only ones in the room I shared with Draco. "Where's Draco?"

"He and Hermione have been up since maybe six-thirty, talking." Annabeth rolled her eyes, but she was smiling earnestly. "Hurry up, Seaweed Brain," she said, dropping a kiss on my head and making her way towards the door.

I grinned after her. "Will do, Wise Girl."

* * *

The Burrow's kitchen seemed fuller that morning than it had in the week we'd been here. Ginny and Harry kept bumping elbows and grinning at each other, Draco and Hermione wouldn't cut off their eye contact while they blabbered endlessly (well, intellectually discoursed was more like it; they were seemingly halfway through a conversation on protecting werewolf rights), Ron was of course stuffing his mouth with three pieces of toast at a time, and Annabeth and I sat opposite each other, once again conversing with our eyebrows and facial expressions.

 _You look nervous, Seaweed Brain._

 _I have a bad feeling about going to Diagon Alley today. There's something really… dark about it nowadays._

She shrugged. _Everything's dark these days._

 _Trust me, something's off._ I could feel it. My nerves had been jumpy since I woke up, and while I was sure it was about something I'd dreamed last night, for some odd reason I couldn't remember my dream. The more time I spent awake, the more nervous I felt, and I couldn't pinpoint why. Annabeth, looking at me, easily recognized I'd been looking anxious.

But soon enough, breakfast was over and Mrs. Weasley, ensuring everyone had their hats and coats, ushered us to the fireplace. Everyone but Draco. "Now, Mr. Malfoy, first of all, your feet are still mending and it is hard for you to walk!"

"Mrs. Weasley—"

"And secondly, I don't want you walking about in a street where there could be a large number of people either looking for you or wanting to kill you!"

"Mrs. Weasley," Draco scrambled desperately, "please, just consider, Harry could lend me his cloak, I could —"

"And your feet? Absolutely not." Mrs. Weasley was unmoving.

"Hey, we'll bring you back sweets and jokes from Fred and George's shop," said Harry.

"And we'll get your books and supplies," added Hermione, touching his shoulder.

Finally, Draco reluctantly agreed to stay at the Burrow while everyone else went to Diagon Alley, and since Mr. Weasley was also there (having worked overtime again at the Ministry last night), Mrs. Weasley was comfortable in knowing that the boy she'd taken in wasn't alone.

* * *

Traveling by Floo was the same as I remembered it from last spring, when we used Umbridge's fireplace to get to the Ministry and Sirius. Uncomfortable. Dizzying. And green.

Diagon Alley was _not_ the same as I remembered it. This time, it was covered with even more moving pictures, posters asking HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WITCH/WIZARD?, and advertisements for what I was sure were fake amulets, charms, and safety potions. And rather than the bustling closely packed street I'd once visited, it was gray and solemn, and empty save the occasional witch or wizard in black, sitting on the street corner and looking quite defeated. The only poster that stood out to me was one in bright lettering and colorful patterns. Its large letters read:

 **WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO? YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO! THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!**

I chuckled at it when I saw the large W underneath — obviously it was Fred and George's, who else's would it be? I was excited to see the shop they'd built themselves.

"Hurry up now, let's go along and get you all your robes and books, and we'll go to Fred and George's," Mrs. Weasley remarked quietly, quickly pushing us all towards Madam Malkin's. Annabeth and I, along with Hermione, didn't get refitted, but Harry did, and so did Ron, who had outgrown his ratty old robes so long ago I felt pretty sad for him. Annabeth and I meandered around the shop meanwhile, always in the sight of poor Mrs. Weasley, who was going cross-eyed trying to watch us all.

It was after we all had _finally_ finished buying cauldrons, potions ingredients, scales, gloves, robes, textbooks and the odd accessory that Mrs. Weasley told us we could finally head off towards the bright multicolored shop that seemed to be the only source of color on the whole street — the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Inside was such an impressive array of jokes, toys and potions that I didn't know where to look. And it was packed with people — apparently, in dark times, people swarmed towards the light.

Fred and George found us quickly, each wearing suits that were as bright as their shop. "Glad to see you're all here! Hermione, could I interest you in a fire toad?" Fred asked jubilantly.

"A _what?_ "

"Ron, let me show you our new and improved Skiving Snackboxes," George added.

"Oh, yeah, those are great, I'd love to see how many classes I can ditch… how much is a box?"

"Five galleons," the two responded in unison.

Ron scoffed. "But I'm your brother."

The twins didn't even look at each other before responding to Ron. "Ten galleons."

Ginny had already wandered off to what looked like a cage full of purple, pink and blue pom-poms — apparently, they were so-called Pygmy Puffs, and the one Ginny decided to get was put on her freckled shoulder and quickly dubbed "Arnold".

"So, Fred, George, it looks like the two of you have made an excellent business here," I told them in passing.

"We never run out of ideas," said Fred.

"It's impossible," said George.

"But it's all thanks to—"

"Our main hero here, Harry."

They tugged him over. Harry looked embarrassed, and shushed them. "Hush, your mum's not supposed to know! I don't want her feeling indebted to me or something."

"Aw, Harry, mate, don't worry, we won't tell her." Fred grinned. "Ready, Georgie?"

"Ready, Freddie."

The two linked arms and walked over to Lavender Brown, who had just entered the shop and whose eyes had immediately been drawn to the love potion rack.

The time we spent inside the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was undoubtedly the highlight of the day, but all too soon Mrs. Weasley wished her twin sons good luck and farewell and moved Ginny, Harry, Annabeth, Hermione and I back to the Burrow, our arms more full of jokes and tricksters than books and school supplies. Mr. Weasley checked us all with his security questions, but he looked tired and despaired.

"Mr. Weasley, is something wrong?" Annabeth asked when he finished his check and was satisfied that we weren't all Death Eaters.

He sighed, running a hand through his thinning red hair. "I think you should all go talk to young Mr. Malfoy. He seems quite… distraught. Molly, have you had a chance to see the _Prophet_ today, dear?" He glanced at the five of us insecurely.

"No, why?"

But Hermione was already rushing up the stairs to the room Draco and I shared, Harry close behind her.

We all came to a halt at the door, where Hermione knocked uncertainly. "Draco? Can we come in?"

There was no reply from the inside. Hermione opened the door and peered in. There was a sigh, and Draco's distinct voice tiredly said, "come in, Hermione."

His eyes were red, but if he had been crying, there was no sign of it anymore. His eyebrows were furrowed, his hair was falling into his eyes, and his mouth was scrunched together as he shoved a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ towards Annabeth.

Hermione had snatched it out of his hands and gasped before anyone could do anything.

Harry was the first to speak as all of us — Ron, Ginny, Harry, Annabeth and I — all sat down on the floor and cushions. "What is it, Hermione?"

"Malfoy Manor… it's… it's _gone."_

Draco put his head in his hands.

"What do you mean, _gone?_ " Ron asked incredulously.

"It blew up in… in an explosion. It says, ' _Last night around eight forty London time, there was an explosion in Wiltshire, England, in Malfoy Manor, an ancient establishment known to have been the home of the upper-class Malfoy family for centuries. The mansion was almost completely demolished, along with most of its relics and family heirlooms. The only surviving piece of the house seems to be the nearby stables, which seem to have remained unused for the past couple of decades, and the west wing. Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt and Avalon Merridew have been sent to investigate, and more news is awaited. Currently, the Malfoy family_ — _Lord Lucius Malfoy, a member of the Wizengamot and Head of the House of Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, and young Heir of the House of Malfoy Mr. Draco Malfoy_ — _are nowhere to be found, and until further notice, presumed dead._ ' Oh, gods, Draco, I'm so terribly sorry."

Hermione sat on the bed next to him and fiercely threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him tightly. Her face was concealed by her bushy brown hair.

The atmosphere in the room, which had mere minutes ago been lively and happy from the Weasleys' joke shop, tangibly dropped.

Harry had just gotten up and walked over to comfort Draco when Mrs. Weasley yelled up the stairs. "Harry, could you come down? Professor Dumbledore is here!"

Harry's eyes widened, and, quickly snatching his wand from where he'd put it on the bedside table, he whispered, "I'll be right back," and rushed out.

Meanwhile, Ron was looking gape-mouthed at Draco and the fallen _Prophet_ on the floor. Ginny was mindlessly petting Arnold, who sat contentedly in her hand, with one finger, while sadly watching Hermione and Draco. Annabeth had suddenly grabbed onto my hand like it was her life force and she wouldn't ever let go.

We all sat there for a few minutes, in silence, until Draco said in a sort of broken voice, "I haven't a clue where they are. They could — they could be _dead_. It's all my fault! _I_ left them to him. I left them to _Voldemort_."

This time, it was Annabeth who spoke up. "No, Draco, you can't blame yourself for this. You chose to do what you saw was right. You _didn't_ abandon them. I'm sure they'll be just fine. From what I've seen your parents are two tough cookies."

"Annabeth's right, Draco," Hermione said. "None of this is your fault. We just have to have —"

"—hope," finished Ginny, fixing Draco with a blazing stare. "Listen, Mal—Draco. You are _not_ alone anymore. Here, you're safe. You're surrounded by people who care for you. And we're not going to let anything take you without a fight. You're a brother now, and here we all take care of each other."

Draco stared back at her, astounded by her little speech, but recomposed himself quickly. "Tha-thanks, Ginny. I really appreciate it."

Ron spoke up too. "Yeah, mate, as much as I hated spewing out slugs in second year because of you, you're one of us. We've got your back, and we all will hope your parents are alright."

Hermione looked at him exasperatedly, but a smile tugged at her lips. "Ronald, you were 'spewing' slugs by your own wandwork. Which, truly, shouldn't have worked in the first place."

Ron grumbled and rolled his eyes, but was also smiling.

Suddenly, Harry opened the door, and rushed to grab his Invisibility Cloak, his eyes shining like he'd been told Umbridge had been found dead under a bridge. "Dumbledore's taking me to Hogwarts."

I stood up. "Right now? Why?"

Harry shrugged, his cloak falling over his shoulders. "He said it was important business. I'll be back in a few hours." He looked sadly at Ron and Hermione. "Sorry, Dumbledore didn't want anyone to come along but me. But I'll tell you all everything when I get back."

And just like that, he rushed back out the door. We sat in confused silence for maybe two seconds before Ron pulled out a Skiving Snackbox and asked, calmly, "So, anyone want to try a Nougat?"

* * *

 **A/N: Apparently, all the chapters I plan are too long. Chapters 11-13 were originally one chapter. This one actually fell into place in one sitting. But here we are. With an increasing word count. And a thickening plot. Where's Luna? What happened at Malfoy Manor? And what is Dumbledore's business, honestly? All questions for you to ask and me to write the answers. But until the next chapter, I'll leave you with one last thought.**

 **Hope? Yes. Rebellions are built on hope.**


	14. Chapter 14

**POV: Percy**

 _Disclaimer: Yep. Yet another one of these. I visited the set of Harry Potter and I still don't own it. I also don't own Percy or his intense sarcasm, both of which actually are Rick's._

* * *

Chapter 14

When Harry finally came back from his obscure 'meeting' with Dumbledore, it was nearly midnight. We had all decided to stay awake and wait for him to come back, so I was watching Annabeth and Ron try to beat the Hades out of each other at Wizard's chess (well, I was mostly falling asleep), Annabeth having sprouted more feathers on her shoulders, while Draco and Hermione talked in a corner quietly.

Harry walked in with a face paler than I'd ever seen on him before. Paradoxically, he was smiling like an idiot. Not grinning, but subtly smiling.

I had to admit it was a bit creepy.

Hermione pulled him onto the couch where she was sitting and demanded he tell us everything, so slowly he did.

"Well, we went to Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts, not something I was really expecting, but anyway… he showed me this object called a Pensieve and in it we went through his memories, well, not exactly all his memories, but —"

"Harry, stop beating around the bush, will you?" Annabeth said, an eyebrow raised while she slowly ran her fingers through the feathers coating her arms. We'd all agreed to pretend it was a failed Transfiguration experiment, courtesy of the Weasley twins' botched-up candies.

"Yeah, well, he showed me memories of Voldemort." Every sound seemed to leave the room. Not a breath was to be heard — it seemed as though we were all afraid to let that word, that name, sink into our lungs.

Draco, surprisingly, was the first to break the silence. " _What?"_

Harry didn't stop. "As a _kid._ "

I'd never seen Draco Malfoy look more worried in his entire life. "Like, when he was young?"

"Exactly," started Harry. "One was of him when he was maybe ten, when Dumbledore came to tell him about Hogwarts."

"Hold on," said Ron, gaping like a fish again. "You mean to tell me that Voldemort didn't know about Hogwarts as a kid? Wasn't he from a wizarding family?"

It wasn't Harry who answered. "No," whispered Draco, eyebrows knit tightly. "He was a half-blood."

Harry nodded. "His mother was a witch, and —" he winced "— a messed up one at that too. She was from an old, old rich line of purebloods called the Gaunts."

Hermione spoke up. "You mean Marvolo Gaunt and his daughter Merope?"

Harry winced, as if to confirm. "Apparently, she brewed a love potion to make a handsome muggle man fall in love with her — Tom Riddle. Senior."

And so Harry delved into the past of Voldemort, something I don't think anyone in the room save maybe Hermione was fascinated to hear. In fact, it was something of a tainted, disgusting nature. Voldemort, born from a love potion, was given to an orphanage because Merope died and had been evicted from her house. He became very bitter from years at the orphanage and liked to torture other students.

Then, Harry said they'd jumped forward a few years, to what might've been Tom Riddle Junior's sixth year at Hogwarts. "Back then, the Potions professor was Horace Slughorn — who, by the way, is apparently the new teacher at Hogwarts this year — and he was very charmed by Tom, who wanted to learn about some sort of Dark magic. The last memory was tampered with, probably by Slughorn himself, out of shame. Dumbledore told me he wanted me to get the rest of that memory out of Slughorn as soon as possible."

We all listened raptly as Harry described those memories, and then described the one about the Gaunts from some Ministry worker.

I summed it all up. "So Dumbledore wants the rest of that memory."

Harry nodded.

"Wait, is that what he meant when Dobby said Dumbledore found out a way to destroy him?" asked Ron, now munching again on a chocolate truffle and moving the chess pieces off the board.

"Probably," said Hermione, tucking her hands in her jacket. "But whatever it is, if Slughorn went through that much trouble to guard his own memories, it must've been bad."

"And very, very Dark magic," suggested Annabeth. "I doubt there are any books in the library that could help us, even in the restricted section."

"Wait," Harry said. "I might know a place with information about Dark magic galore?"

"What?" Draco said.

"Maybe we should see if we can pay Grimmauld Place a visit." He smiled that sort-of creepy smile again.

"Hold on, Harry, did you say that Slughorn's coming back as a Hogwarts teacher this year?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. He told me he went with Dobby and convinced him to come back, apparently using some sort of bargaining. I bet it has to do with me. Dumbledore said that Slughorn is attracted to the powerful and sort of 'collects' students to be in his club."

"Well, if Slughorn was the Potions teacher, wouldn't he come back as a Potions professor?" Ron concluded. Every single person's face fell, excepting maybe Draco's.

"Oh, no, that means Snape —" started Annabeth.

"— will probably be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts," I finished grimly.

There was a pause until Ginny, who had just entered the room silently, holding two mugs of tea, said, "Well, at least we still have the DA."

We all settled back down into the cushions, somewhat depressedly, and, as the Weasley twins would say, went 'back to our knitting'. That was until Annabeth spoke up again.

"Harry, I think I've got an idea. Remember what Dumbledore said about Slughorn trying to 'collect' students?" We all nodded, slightly confused. "Well, I think we might just be able to use that to get what we need out of an old professor like him…"

* * *

The rest of the summer break passed too quickly, and most nights I dreamed placidly of strawberry fields under a large blue sky. Unlike Harry, whose dreams, we could all tell, were quickly deteriorating into nightmares, and some of them quite awful.

We decided not to roam through Sirius's library just yet, as Hermione had offered that we could check it out once we had Slughorn's memory. And on that subject, Annabeth had drafted a full battle-like plan to get the memory. But instead of using blatant threats and weapons, she decided nice and subtle would do the trick.

Annabeth drilled Harry on what he was supposed to say for the plan to work so often that eventually he (along with some assistance from Hermione) managed to put a spell on her to glue her mouth closed. Literally. She immediately came to me and gave me a look that obviously said, _Help me out of here, gods above_. But I smiled at her and planted a kiss on her lips. She was infuriated, and had she been able to talk, she still wouldn't have said a word to me for the rest of the day.

Two days before we were set to leave for King's Cross, we were all packing when Annabeth — having finished packing years ago, honestly — came up to our room and slammed a map on the desk.

"I finished it," she beamed proudly, holding the two sides down so the parchment wouldn't roll itself up again.

"The final draft of this meticulous plan you've devised?" I smirked.

She pursed her lips at me. "Yes, Seaweed Brain. Look, it has everywhere everyone needs to be with moving footprints! Harry let me borrow the Marauder's Map. Honestly, it's really surprising that maybe the most ingenious magical artifact we've ever seen was not only made by teenage boys, but also for just the purpose of screwing around with professors and other people."

I patted her head, and went back to folding my jeans.

* * *

All too soon, it was time for Hogwarts. I had to admit I had missed the long, torch-lit corridors and cobblestone paths that made me feel like I was in a medieval era. We all rushed to King's Cross by Apparition this time (my birthday had passed a week ago: I hadn't told the wizards and witches or most of all Mrs. Weasley because really all I wanted was a blue cookie and I got that by owl from my mom all the way back in Manhattan).

I took Annabeth's hand, and together we Apparated the two of us, Harry, Hermione and Draco (under the invisibility cloak so he wouldn't be spotted by numerous crowds and start rumors), while Mrs. Weasley Apparated herself, Ginny and Ron. Two aurors — Tonks and Kingsley — had been summoned, probably to protect Harry. We popped into existence behind two bushes a few feet away from the entrance to the train station.

I ran at the wall again, and managed to get through before, for some reason, being attacked by a ball of mostly black fur. " _Poseidon?"_ I basically yelled at the cat, who snuggled into my arms and started purring. I'd basically forgotten about him, but apparently he'd made the journey all the way from Hogwarts to intercept me at King's Cross.

We said goodbye to the Weasleys and promptly hauled all of our luggage inside the compartments. As soon as we were all there, Annabeth led the way to an empty compartment.

I set down Poseidon, and she started, blond curls falling out of her bun. "Operation Slug is about to start a mess. Everyone ready?"

* * *

 **A/N: Shorter than usual, messy, but there. Leave a review if you don't mind!**


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